Beautiful Dreamer
by robey331
Summary: Legolas arrives in Imladris suffering with a serious personal problem. Can the wise and noble healer help him?
1. Chapter 1

Beautiful Dreamer

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

Part One: An Appointment with the Great Healer

Elrond watched Legolas through the open window, compassionate amusement glimmering in his grey eyes, as the fair woodland prince attempted to work up the nerve to come through the door, pacing up the path with bold resolve which evaporated as soon as he came within two metres of the steps. An abrupt turn to the left put him in the way of one of the ubiquitous and anonymous pages and they nearly collided, then danced side to side as each tried to move out of the other's way. He extricated himself with a frantic 'excuse me!' and stalked away in haste, heading out into the grounds away from the landscaped terraces of the Last Homely House. He'd tried twice yesterday and given up; the day prior he'd strolled through the garden and past the entry no less than four times but never approached the door. Elrond shook his head and resumed his work; it was only a matter of time.

At the evening meal he observed the ellon closely, seeing beyond the courtly grace and elegance to the edgy strain of nervous tension magnified by a lengthy span of days without rest. He wasn't eating much either yet sipped regularly from his goblet. Elrond permitted a faint frown to pucker his brow; he would have to take matters in hand if there was no change soon. He motioned for the server and discreetly ordered Legolas' wine to be diluted. It would not do for the tautly wound archer to succumb to over indulgence and the loss of judgement incumbent to the condition. He decided to join the household for the after dinner entertainment and keep an eye on the troubled Wood Elf.

"What's wrong with Thranduilion?" asked a voice near his ear and Elrond turned to meet Glorfindel's disapproving scowl. The great healer lowered his brows in censure.

"Don't call him that; he hates it," he corrected in stern tones. "Why do you assume there's something wrong? Mayhap I just like looking at him. He's quite attractive." The snort that issued from Glorfindel's nostrils effectively expressed his disbelief and in case it didn't he added an eye roll and a half shake of his head to emphasise the opinion. Elrond glared. "Are you implying I no longer have the capacity to adequately appreciate an alluring face and form?"

"Appreciate? Is that the polite term now? Things have changed so much since last I was in Middle-earth," quipped Glorfindel, hoping to evade any further demands for clarification of his non-verbal commentary on the state of his Lord's love-life. "Put another way, if nothing is the matter then why is he still here?"

"He has not been here long," Elrond replied. In fact he'd been in Imladris a month but only in the last two weeks had Legolas been fit enough to be released from the House of Healing.

His arrival had been unannounced, unexpected, and wholly unorthodox. One evening as Elrond left his office for the day, the last petitioner satisfied, the final meeting concluded, all his reports dictated, orders signed and delivered, he'd startled to discover the Wood Elf propped upright against the wall in the antechamber, literally asleep on his feet. Never having seen Thranduil's son, Elrond had no inkling that his sleeping visitor was more than a messenger from Greenwood, but that in itself was a novelty. The secretary assigned to monitoring who came was called in and had no idea who he was or how he'd come to be there. A page divulged he'd let the messenger in through the side door and directed him to see the secretary though the Wood Elf insisted he had to speak with Lord Elrond and no one else.

During this discussion the elf started to tilt, sliding sideways toward the floor, and came awake with a severe jolt, drawing a long knife and dropping into a defencive crouch as he rasped out 'Die, spawn of Sauron!'. His blue eyes blinked, fixed on Elrond, and grew huge and wide. 'You are not an orc,' he'd stated and then crumpled into a senseless heap. The Lord of Imladris had him taken to the infirmary where he was treated for exhaustion, a broken clavicle, and an ugly stab wound going putrid from lack of treatment. The able healers attending him reported his progress satisfactory but mentioned an unexpected symptom. The elf was beset by dreams that kept him in a tormented state of elevated arousal.

Well, professional curiosity must be satisfied and Elrond hastened to the sickroom to see for himself. The archer was indeed impressively hard and writhed in feverish misery as he moaned and masturbated without effecting release. The remedy was simplicity itself. Elrond calmly took the rigid organ in hand and held it firm, ordering the elf to come. He did, explosively and with a long low wail, slipping into a deeper state of unconsciousness afterwards. The Lord of Imladris did not have to instruct his staff to observe discretion over the event; all of his healers were consummate professionals. Even so, they dressed their unconscious charge with great reluctance.

Obviously all elves have dreams, dreams of all kinds and varieties. Waking dreams of reverie filled with memory of former days; dreams of foretelling that can be incoherent, confusing, and depending on the events foretold, frightening; dreams of introspection for reviewing a situation and deriving an important fact or lesson; silly fantasies of daring deeds or lurid sexual pleasures. Given the bizarre nature of his arrival and the evidence Elrond was cleaning from his hand, he felt certain he understood the reason the archer had journeyed to Imladris. He wanted to consult the renowned healer and be cured of the erotic phantasm.

He visited the elf the next day when he was awake and found out who he was. Then Elrond began to worry a bit, especially since Legolas got that same stunned expression on his face, stuttered and stumbled through an impossibly improbable explanation for his poor state of health involving a fight in the dark with either really big orcs or very small trolls, a misstep at the edge of some sort of precipice, and a fall into a ravine at the bottom of which lay the remains of a long-dead dragon. It was a dorsal bone spike that had impaled him when he landed, he'd said, and oh yes, he'd brought the post, the reason for travelling over the mountains, but lost it somewhere in the Troll Shaws. Elrond sent a message off to Thranduil at once to let him know Legolas was safe, not for a second believing he had come all this way just to deliver the monthly dispatch of personal and political correspondence.

Suddenly realising he was staring fixedly at the subject of this recollection and thus heightening the ellon's level of anxiety, Elrond removed his attention to Glorfindel only to find the ancient Elda smirking at him, left brow arched in amusement.

"I guess you might be able to appreciate him at that," he said.

Now it was Elrond's turn to roll his eyes. "All right, that's enough of this appreciation business."

"You started it."

"And I'm finishing it! There is something troubling Legolas that he needs to talk about, but hasn't yet gathered sufficient mettle to face me."

"Any word from Thranduil that might enlighten us?" asked Glorfindel.

"Just a typically terse 'thank you, peredhel'."

Glorfindel's eyes widened drastically. "He said thank you? The haughty King of Wood Elves must have been worried, indeed!"

"Don't be unkind," admonished Elrond. "Not being a father, you can't understand."

"Who says I'm not a father?" demanded Glorfindel with a sly twinkle in his bold, bright eyes and this finally made Elrond laugh.

The meal was over and he rose, at which action a cacophony of chairs scraping the floor filled the room as the many and perpetual guests of the realm left the table and drifted in pairs through the open arcade and into the gardens. There was to be a moonlight serenade and everyone was eager to find a comfortable corner or a suitably shielded romantic spot from which to appreciate the music. Elrond watched Legolas leading away a fair maiden and smiled warmly. Perhaps the archer would be more relaxed in the morning.

"That looks promising," Glorfindel had obviously been watching him, too, but somehow this cheery comment was edged in disapprobation.

"It does." Elrond knew better than to confront his friend. Glorfindel had the notion that his heart was deeply hidden and fully shielded, but the lore-master was wise to the legendary warrior. While he was wont to boast of numerous conquests for the sake of ego and to satisfy the expectations of his adoring public, he was in reality painfully shy and had not had a single affair since arriving in the valley.

"Still, whatever brought him here must be serious to have come all this way alone, an exceedingly reckless thing to do," he added reprovingly yet with an undercurrent of incongruent hope.

"Youth is often reckless," reminded Elrond, "and what one deems dire and extreme in youth often proves no hindrance at all once time hammers the body into submission and the soul into steel."

"So you do think it's about sex?" Glorfindel's tone was again morose.

"He's the right age," Elrond shrugged. "It is a universal experience, mistaking the keen edge of desire for love, toppling into fretting grief when the sensation diminishes and the object of that desire no longer stirs the same passion. He thinks he's fading, as we all have thought." Elrond and Glorfindel shared nostalgic smiles, each recalling former days of youth when the delights of the flesh were new, thrilling, and vaguely frightening.

"May Vairë hear you and make it nothing more," the Balrog-slayer prayed and took his leave, striding away with an ebullient step that was obviously forced to the healer's discerning eye.

He should have stayed, thought Elrond, for then he would have spied Legolas slipping away through the shadows alone, heading again for the deserted isolation of the countryside.

At dawn Legolas was slouched in a chair on one of the east facing terraces, listlessly rolling a mug of tea between his palms, watching the sunrise through harried eyes that utterly failed to appreciate the soul-stirring scene, his entire being radiating distress and frustration. He looked as haggard and fatigued as he had on arrival and was even more withdrawn and disengaged from the world around him, something uncommon indeed for an elf of the woodlands. No wonder he was so distraught, thought Elrond, for such distraction could very well be lethal in the besieged kingdom of Mirkwood. This could not continue. He was about to go and confront him when Glorfindel arrived.

"He spent the night on the archery fields, not bedding a fair lady," he announced, both pleased and concerned. "Best form I've ever seen; makes even my most experienced archers look like novices. He never missed the center, firing in the dark from the farthest position possible. And such speed! His hands were a mere blur of motion. Thranduil must miss him terribly."

"I am sure he does, Glorfindel, but not because of his expertise with the bow," frowned Elrond. "What have you got against the Woodland King?"

"Nothing!" The mighty Elda was all shocked innocence and wounded honour. "Can I not appreciate a fine warrior's skills without being accused of prejudice against his father?" He stalked away with a huff.

Elrond raised his brows over this choice of wording and watched as Glorfindel chose a route that carried him right in front of Legolas, whom he greeted with a gruff 'Maur aur, Thranduilion' which made the ellon jump and spill his tea all over his lap.

The peaceful morning was disrupted by a gracefully incongruous and stunningly tumultuous pas-de-deux. Legolas leaped up with a pained cry, Glorfindel began apologising profusely and vociferously, and every eye was on them. The Balrog-slayer produced a handkerchief and began attempting to sop up the fluid from the prince's pants. This precipitated the most acutely hilarious dance of gyrating anguish Elrond had ever beheld as Legolas sought to get the legendary Elda's hands away from his crotch. Suddenly he gave forth a decidedly urgent yelp and new energy made it possible to extricate himself from the groping fingers. He fled for the house in mortified retreat leaving Glorfindel frozen, damp kerchief in hand. A second later, the Balrog-slayer realised he was the centre of attention, drew himself up, and marched double-time from the terrace.

There were one or two guffaws and a ribald remark here and there but with Elrond on hand most people maintained a seemly and gracious mien. Even so, the Lord of Imladris knew the story would be the chief subject of gossip from one end of the valley to the other long before the noon meal was ready. Yet that was of little concern compared to the other ideas flowering in the lore-master's brain.

He decided a consultation was in order and took himself inside, making his way through narrow, little-used halls and down a dark, twisting stair into the basements of his palatial abode. He crossed a dank and dismal passage smelling strongly of mildew and faintly of rust, reaching a turning where a block and tackle was set in the ceiling, its massive chains and hooks dangling just above a dried puddle of some indeterminate but suspiciously reddish substance splattered over the closed trap doors beneath it. He went on, heels clacking on the stone, and came to a dead end. There he pulled opened a massive oak door bearing a daunting assemblage of chains and locks, none of which were actually in use, and set his foot upon the plushly carpeted and softly lit corridor leading to the private domain of Erestor, his distant kinsman and loyal seneschal.

Loyal henchman, some would say. Erestor was universally feared by almost every elf in every realm remaining on Arda and inspired instinctive horror in men and dwarves, for it was whispered that he was actually the son of Maglor and thus tainted by the curse of Feänor. It was also rumoured that he was a kin-slayer, a cold-blooded assassin who handled the really nasty jobs no one else in Elrond's employ was willing to even admit might arise. Some claimed he had a torture chamber furnished with instruments of pain and torment that would make Melkor envious. Rarely did he emerge from his subterranean den, but when he did the paths cleared and silent dread enveloped all in the vicinity of his passing.

Elrond knew how much of it was truth and how much was fiction and willingly abetted his cousin in maintaining this daunting notoriety. He trod the rich pile of the woollen carpets and admired the masterworks of art on display, envying for the thousandth time his kinsman's taste and wishing he had that knack for creating an ambiance of elegance that was understated in such a way that everyone would be impressed by the sophistication of the person whose abode it was. And this was just the hall. He reached a trio of open arches and was beckoned inside the first on the right; as always, Erestor knew he was on the way even though his feet made no sound whatsoever on the thick rugs.

"Mae aduial, Elrond. Have you broken fast yet?" The silky voice was smooth and reverberated with undertones of perilous warning; a perfect imitation of the aristocratic menace produced by Maedhros when he deigned to speak.

It gave Elrond chills to hear it even after all these Ages gone by, but he gritted his teeth, put on a semblance of a smile, and entered the suite. "Nay, I was about to do so when a most extraordinary event occurred."

"Ah yes, that little drama between our erstwhile master-at-arms and the visiting prince of Mirkwood," snorted Erestor. He stood to greet his cousin, a cool reptilian smile adorning his thin dark lips, tall and austere in snug black clothes fitted to his lanky, lupine form, legs encased in supple boots of matte black leather, inky tresses unfettered and framing his pale, patrician visage. Sparkling dark eyes looked upon Elrond with genuine affection as he offered him a seat at a table already set for two.

The Lord of Imladris didn't even bother to ask how he knew about it and reached eagerly for the delicate china cup of tea. "Yes. Do you know anything?"

"I know a great many things," Erestor chuckled smugly and took a bite of toast. He considered carefully what he should and should not say as he chewed, as though he knew so much he had to be cautious of betraying the great secrets of the Valar. He noticed Elrond's building exasperation and suppressed a grin.

With an aggravated sigh Elrond started firing off questions. "Do they know each other?"

"Possibly, though they've only just met."

"I see. Has Glorfindel been to Mirkwood without my knowledge?"

"Definitely. You're not his Ada, Elrond."

"I didn't say I was," growled the lore-master. "How intimate is their acquaintance?"

"It isn't. Legolas is innocent."

"Really? So that's what he's come here for." Elrond was surprised; he'd thought Legolas was a little older but perhaps it was the harrowing life he led as a woodland warrior that lent him such an air of maturity. "So much for my original theory," he added. "I though he was confused by diminishing interest in his first lover." He was no small amount gladdened that his corollary to this theory also was invalid, to whit: that Glorfindel was the object of Legolas' confusion.

"Nay, not that," said Erestor. He fixed his cousin with a sharp eye. "There's more to this Wood Elf than is readily apparent."

"Tell me what you know," ordered the Lord of the Vale and his seneschal obeyed.

"He goes to the training fields every night, attempting to expend his frustration in exercise. He's superb with the bow but you've not seen grace and beauty until you've seen him working with knives. Valar! It was all I could do not to challenge him myself, for he would make a worthy companion. He surprised me by revealing that he knew I was watching, calling me by name and inviting me to spar. Now, there is a bold and daring heart inside that slight and winsome form. I have no idea how he detected my presence."

"You turned him down?"

"I did. He is at a rather fragile place just now and I wouldn't want to be the one to break him. Thranduil is a friend. Besides, I haven't figured out what it is Legolas really wants."

"Does he even know?"

"Undoubtedly, and thus he is here, but being innocent he doesn't know how to go about getting it."

"He seemed capable enough to make you an offer. Perhaps it is your refusal that has him all bothered."

"You flatter me, but I had the distinct impression he was close to desperation when he issued that challenge. I've too much self-respect to accept being his consolation prize."

"Too much ego, rather!" snorted Elrond and Erestor laughed, nodding agreement. "Did you ask why he was out practising his deadly skills in the empty depths of the night?"

"I did and he replied that he could not bear to be idle lest dreams overtake him. He was trying to work himself to exhaustion so to enter a deeper level of rest where these phantoms could not invade his peace. You must do something, Elrond, for I don't know how much longer he can hold on to his sanity under this strain."

"Surely it is not so serious!" exclaimed Elrond, but he knew it was so. He had noticed the continuing decline himself and for this reason he had come to hear his kinsman's opinion. "I will force the issue today, then, and uncover this secret hunger so dark he can only own it in dreams. If I need you "

"I would be most willing," Erestor smiled and his eyes glinted with predatory relish.

Elrond left him, making his way back to his private study, and was just penning a summons to Legolas when there was a mild ruckus outside his door. It was flung open and the Wood Elf staggered through it, shoving off the grasping hands of Faelon. He took a seat before the desk amid the secretary's apologies for failing to stop him and presented a haunted and stricken countenance, eyes awash in what was nearly terror, trained upon Elrond in mute appeal.

"It is fine, Faelon; I was expecting Legolas. It is my fault for failing to inform you of our appointment," Elrond said smoothly, smiling kindly at Legolas, who visibly relaxed and returned a weak smile of thanks. "Please see that we are not disturbed." With that the disgruntled servant exited and Elrond was alone with the suffering ellon.

Elrond got up and Legolas involuntarily flinched, then rapidly went from scarlet to deathly pallor, the expression in his vibrant eyes flying through every shade of anxious dismay possible before he looked away. "Be at peace," the healer soothed and very, very carefully settled a hand on an unbelievably tense shoulder. He squeezed gently and Legolas exhaled and then swallowed audibly.

"Lord Elrond, I need to talk to you," he said, voice fraught with misery. "I think I am going mad."

"Let me reassure you that is not true," smiled Elrond. He squeezed again, truly glad the ellon had approached him on his own, feeling warmly paternal toward Legolas for gathering his courage. He decided to offer a little praise. "Yet I have noticed your distress and was hoping you would come to see me. I know it was not an easy thing to do." He crossed the room to a small alcove where he kept wine and spirits, pouring a small cup of miruvor which he brought back and held forth. "Here, this will help calm you." To his surprise, Legolas went rigid and recoiled from him with a hoarse gasp.

"What is that?" he demanded, panic plain in his tone, eyes wild with fear. "Is it some kind of drug? I won't drink it!" He shot up, obviously intent on escape, but toppled the chair and then in his haste somehow caught his long legs in it. He fell with a thud and scrambled to get upright. Before he could disentangle himself Elrond was crouched beside him, the stimulant set aside.

"Legolas, compose yourself!" he commanded sternly and frowned when the archer froze, gaping at him as though he thought he was about to be skewered by something other than the lore-master's piercing gaze. "It is only miruvor, pen neth. I would not give you anything that would do you harm. What inspired such an idea?" He ran a swift examining eye over the ellon and was not pleased. Legolas' chest was heaving so fast he was nearly hyperventilating, his pulse pounding so rapidly Elrond could see the carotid artery thumping, and there could be no doubt at all that Legolas was fully aroused to what had to be a painful degree given the tight leather leggings he was wont to wear. "Be at peace," he exhorted softly and with even more care than before settled his palm over the hammering heart.

"I cannot abide this any longer," Legolas murmured, voice choked with despair, and let the great healer help him up. The contact with Elrond's hands imparted a soothing warmth to his soul and he suddenly felt very foolish. Of course the world's most renowned healer was not going to harm him. He hung his head. "It's these dreams!" he seethed. "They give me no peace! I told you I am going mad and perhaps now you will believe it must be so."

"Nay, but I understand your problem more clearly," Elrond righted the chair and put Legolas back in it. "The fantasy involves loss of control via an intoxicating substance of some kind. I should have guessed." He smiled when Legolas goggled at him, patted his shoulder kindly and returned to his place behind the desk. "It is one of the most common secret desires among strong, stalwart warriors who spend many long and lonely days out on patrol. I recall experiencing that, long ago when I was a lowly foot-soldier in Gil-galad's army."

"You have had this dream?" Legolas could not be more astounded had Elrond just told him he kept a dwarven mistress.

"Well, there are always personal variations, but something much like it, yes." Elrond was pleased with this breakthrough. It should not take too much coaxing to get Legolas to reveal the troubling fantasy. Once voiced, the vivid images would lose their power to frighten him and then Legolas would be well on his way to sorting out what he wanted to do about them. He decided the best way to inspire the trust required was by example. "For me, it was always a sweetly scented incense that my lover would light, the faint grey curls of smoke proving to be a powerful aphrodisiac which made me verily rabid to be mastered and thoroughly debauched."

"Ai Valar!" Legolas breathed, irises dilating as he shifted awkwardly, tugging at his shirt to make sure his escalating ardour was not on display. "How did you deal with it?"

"The same as you," Elrond shrugged. "I fretted and drove myself nearly to the brink of madness trying to hide it and subdue it by force of will. The harder I tried not to think about it, the stronger the urge to think about it became. Eventually, I sought out someone I trusted, as you have done, and told him everything. I was instantly relieved to know I was not the first to suffer this kind of frustration."

"Ai Valar!" Legolas softy exclaimed again and sat up straight, running a nervous hand through his hair as he cast a surreptitious and sidelong glance at the mighty Lord. Perhaps there was hope, though the scene Elrond described was rather tame. He inhaled and released a steadying breath. "I think I need that miruvor after all." Elrond's hand indicated the cup and he drained it in one swallow. The cool, sweet taste immediately eased his pounding pulse and gave him courage; he managed a smile. He could do this; they were only words. Elrond already knew something about it anyway. He opened his mouth, met the lore-master's eye, realised what he was about to reveal, flushed crimson, clamped his lips tight, and dropped his gaze to his lap.

"Legolas, I am thousands of years old. There is nothing you can tell me that I have not heard before from someone else. Indeed, your torment is familiar to me personally. Relieve your heart of this burden by sharing it, young one." Elrond employed his most comforting tones and filled the words with both authority and wisdom. When the archer lifted pleading eyes to his he smiled and nodded. "Sexual fantasies are perfectly normal and even healthy for someone with an active libido. I know it is difficult to begin, but the sooner you start the sooner it will be done."

"Aye," Legolas grimaced and squirmed about in his chair a little. This is why he'd come to Imladris, was it not? What good was it to be here in Elrond's office and not heed the advice offered? If he wanted to be free of this grotesque phantasm, then he must speak. "All right, I will tell you everything, but you must swear never to repeat it to my father."

"You have my word, Legolas." Elrond did not add that Thranduil probably had a fair idea of what was troubling his son, instead offering his patient another encouraging nod as he sat back, clasped his hands atop the smooth leather surface of his desk, and assumed his most clinical, professional demeanour. The most important thing to do during a revelation of lewd images was to maintain a bland, almost disinterested expression. Any visible reaction or heightened emotion, especially amusement or overt titillation, was sure to be damaging to his patient's ego. Elrond settled this impassive mask over his face and waited.

"All right," Legolas said again and heaved a great breath. "I don't remember how I'm drugged or what substance is used, the dream begins as I'm regaining consciousness." He paused and again his nerve began to fail him.

"Go on," Elrond quickly interposed, seeing his hesitation. "What happens that wakes you?"

Legolas peered at him in silence several seconds, mouth dry, and then swallowed. "I wake because I'm disturbed by the feeling that " he wallowed in his seat and groaned, covering his eyes. "I just can't."

"Of course you can; it's only words, Legolas. Just say them," the Lord of the Valley ordered.

Legolas lifted harried eyes to him. Really, he'd rather face a whole troop of orcs alone with just ten arrows and a dagger than hear himself speak these particular words.

"If you keep this inside it will continue to erode your mental health," Elrond counselled seriously. "I know that is why you came here. You are too conscientious a warrior to put others at risk because of your dilemma." It was the perfect thing to say and the lore-master knew it, of course. He could actually see the grim determination settling in Legolas' lanky frame as his jaw clenched and his hands gripped the arms of the chair. He nodded to himself, flicked a gaze at Elrond and then away, whetted his lips and said:

"I wake because there's a huge, hard cock pounding into my rear." He stole another peek at the august healer, but Elrond remained immobile, features smooth, no evidence of shock apparent. Well, he'd said that much, might as well go on. "I'm lying on my belly being fucked by a powerful male. The sensation is incredible but also frightening; I've no idea who it is. I start to struggle, though he's got a firm grip on my hips, intending to kick him off me. That's when I realise I'm chained to some sort of table or platform.

"While trying to get to my knees, there's a sharp yank at the root of my penis and fiery pain streaks through my chest, too. I'm bound with some kind of restraint clamped round my genitals and my nipples. There are chains because I hear them jingle as I shift about. The elf behind me laughs and pats me on the rump, then suddenly my position makes it possible for him to penetrate me deeper. His cock strikes my sweet spot and the next thing I know I'm moaning and howling, rocking back onto every thrust even though this makes the restraints jerk my cock painfully and pulls my nipples so roughly it feel like the skin will tear.

"Ai Valar! The feeling is incredible! I want to know who it is and that's when I realise my eyes aren't just squeezed shut but blinded. There's a tight band around them so that even when I attempt to open them I can't. Now I'm panicking and in desperation I lift one leg and try to kick him. He grabs my thigh with another laugh and then takes the other as well, holding me balanced now on my hands and his cock. He's spearing me with greater force, going deeper with every thrust, only now I can't move anymore. I'm completely at his mercy.

"He just keeps fucking me and fucking me, that long rod of hot, rigid flesh slamming my inner core repeatedly. I'm acutely aware of every centimetre of his living sword as it stabs me over and over. The friction is painful and I wonder if he's really ripping me apart, but I long for it anyway because it precedes such a glorious explosion of starry bliss when fully sheathed. Coupled with that, the way he's holding me up keeps the tension on the nipple chains taut and every advance ignites a bright scarlet flare of the sweetest agony I have ever known. It feels like the tip of my penis and the points of my nipples are connected. I find myself anticipating the sensation and pushing myself up on my arms to enhance it.

"I don't know how he can go on like that without tiring and all the while I'm in a frenzy because I've long passed the point where I should have come but haven't. That's when I figure out the restraint around my organ won't permit release. Now I start begging him to let me come, to finish me, and that finally makes an impression on him. I feel him gathering himself for the culmination of our joining and he erupts, shooting a thick flood of warmth into my bowels while he slams into my ass with unbelievable power, roaring in victorious exultation." There he stopped, breathing hard, white-knuckled hands clutching the chair, eyes wild and bright and locked with the ancient healer's.

Elrond inhaled slowly and sat forward, chair creaking as he shifted, hoping his eyes did not give him away and the ellon did not realise he was now fully aroused by the erotic tale. Any fatherly urges he'd harboured toward the comely prince had vanished long ago, replaced by a hunger far more visceral and licentious. This was not the time to either explore or exhibit it. He opened his mouth to offer some reassuring words but never uttered them.

"I'm not finished," Legolas rasped out and held the sombre grey eyes. He could see a dark gleam deep in their depths and his heart started pounding even harder. He couldn't stop now if his life depended upon it. "I'm in some sort of shock, realising I've just been claimed more thoroughly than I ever imagined possible, filled to the brim with another male's seed. He lets go of one leg and then the other and pulls out, for he's soft now. He gives my rump another little slap and chuckles as I kneel there, trembling all over because of course I'm still perched on the brink of delirious delight and aching to tumble in. I hear him walk away and as he does he speaks. 'Have a go, he's so tight and hot I wish I could stay hard in there forever.'

"A second voice answers: 'Thank you, I believe I will, though after that show I doubt I can last as long as you.' My mind is in a whirl as I understand we have not been alone but had an audience for the whole act. Now I sense the second male approach and I'm desperate to get free. I'm thrashing in my bonds; I can't allow myself to be fucked again by another ellon I don't know and can't even see, sore and wet with the vital juices of the first. He doesn't even pause for my terror excites him; he runs hands over my back, his breathing hoarse and audible. His hands slip underneath and fondle my nipples; it hurts and I scream. Suddenly I realise my hands are not restrained and my fingers fly to the band around my eyes.

"A hand grabs my wrist yanks it back down, snaps a cold, metal cuff around it, does the same to the other. A third voice chastises me: 'None of that, we can't have you telling of our secret rendezvous. Besides, we have to eat dinner together later and we don't want you to be uncomfortable about it.' He's close enough for me to feel his words across my ear and he leans closer, kissing me, pushing his thick wet tongue into my gaping mouth. I draw back, jerking the chains at my chest just as the second male mounts me.

"Ai, it is so good I can hardly stand it! He hits my prostate on the initial penetration and thereafter rides me with long, leisurely pulses, pulling almost all the way out each time, groaning quietly as I struggle to increase the pressure. By the third retreat and re-entry, I'm pleading and begging again, telling him to fuck me harder and faster. The third male laughs. 'I think he wants you to fuck him senseless.' Again he claims my mouth, dipping his tongue into my frantic cries and supplications. This time I let him and suck at the mobile organ. It makes him moan and he breaks free with a soft cry of profane excitement.

'Let's see what else you might like to taste,' he murmurs, breathy and eager. I smell it before it comes close and then his erection brushes my cheek leaving a slick, sticky trail. He's already dripping and I know what's going to happen. His hands cup my face and the warm, wet tip just darts inside my mouth and out. Behind me the second male shouts out a mighty oath and his lunges increase in force and speed. I'm so grateful I almost cry and I'm willing the cock to come back to my lips so he'll go even faster. 'Oh yes, do it. Make him suck you off.' The first male is right beside me and suddenly his hands stroke my sides and then go low to caress my belly. Fingers pinch the glans of my cock and every muscle in my body writhes in a spasm of wanton need, but I can't come.

"The third male offers me his penis again and I take it in. The flavour is strange and the scent tart, sweaty and salty. He goes in carefully and slowly, cautious not to make me gag or panic. I toy with the idea of biting him and then I do, but oh so softly. He gasps and pulls out and then re-enters, starting to establish a rhythm I can accommodate, and I suck on his thick cock, running my tongue over the vein, feeling it thump. As hoped, the male fucking my ass becomes more excited and I sense he is driving toward his peak, tearing me up in the process and I'm moaning my pleasure, doubly pinned by the cock between my lips and the shaft up my anus.

"Suddenly, something wet and warm envelopes my aching penis. The first male is sucking it! I feel like I really will pass out and I'm trying hard to make my hips pivot in such a way as to get more of my cock in his mouth while making it possible for the male fucking me to drill deeper, all the while lavishing the organ I'm feasting on with wailing adoration. Someone takes my hand and guides it to a hot column of flesh and blood; I clasp it tight. Bound as I am, I have little free motion stroke it but there is no need. The first male is lying beside me and easily rocks in and out of my tight hold. We're all linked up, myself the locus of our desires. I've got penises in me everywhere. I'm being fucked by three males of incredible potency and abruptly all their motions synchronise.

"Just as I feel the male behind me start to come, fingers release my root from its chains. The cock in my mouth starts to spurt bitter cream and I swallow frantically as my bowels are bathed anew in slippery semen. The sensation is like nothing I've ever known and at last I explode, coming down the first male's throat even as I feel his seed splatter across my chest.

"At this point I wake up in a truly horrific mess of torn sheets reeking with my own essence." Legolas stopped talking and struggled to calm himself, aware that he was perilously close to coming in his pants right in front of Lord Elrond. Alarmingly, the idea made it even more likely and he squirmed, crossing his legs tight over his confined erection as he bit his lip hard. He managed to stave off ejaculation, heaved a long sigh, and looked deep into Elrond's eyes. "So, is that normal?" he asked.

TBC


	2. Chapter 2

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Two: Diagnosis, Prognosis, and Treatment **

Silence reigned; a silence so total and encompassing that Elrond was sure he could hear the minimal rustle of silk cloth billowing as the fabric of his pants shifted to make way for his expanding penis.

The room was alive with sexual energy, potent and intoxicating, a bright web of dazzling after-images in which the elven Lord and his over-wrought patient were enmeshed; the staid and formal office transformed into a den of iniquitous delights peopled with phantoms that were as vital and real as if they were standing there naked waiting for the healer's verdict, eager to snatch away their vibrant virgin lover, willing to add another actor to their troupe.

Elrond was nearly at the point where he could give them faces and identities, inviting them into his own fantasies along with their fair captive. It would be so easy to take the scene in a new direction, choosing a different method of bondage, another form of torment, more daring positions for the golden warrior, and naturally the Lord of Imladris would be the dominant male and direct the course of their orgy.

Across the expanse of the desk, Legolas blinked, a simple flicker of skin and lashes that momentarily obscured the archer's eyes, breaking the spell and releasing Elrond from the exhilarating prison of the erotic dream-scape. The great healer almost startled but held his disappointment in check, aware of a sense of dismissal, as though the dream-dwellers thought he'd seen quite enough, thank you, unless he was willing to join them.

Oh, he was willing.

Elrond inhaled slowly, focusing on Legolas, the ellon watching him in anxious expectation, waiting for words that would either confirm his worst fears or allow him to accept this bizarre curse as a natural phase of development. He must answer lest the prince realise what was going through his mind.

"Normal?" the mighty healer shrugged, "of course it is normal." He smiled with benevolent indulgence manufactured specifically to imply that he was neither surprised, intrigued, nor shocked and that only because he was so very young did Legolas even need this reassurance, as though every mature male elf in Arda had experienced dreams like this when they were Legolas' age. This unvoiced communication did its work and he saw the rigid frame relax. "Perfectly normal. People of all kinds, elves, men, even dwarves, engage in all manner of sexual imaginings."

"Thank Elbereth!" Legolas exhaled the words and dropped his head to rest on the chair's high, straight back, exposing his long white throat as he closed his eyes in obvious relief, arms falling limp as he let go of the chair, legs splaying wide as he uncrossed them. The evidence of his unflagging erection bulged against his left thigh and Elrond thought he had never witnessed such a blatant and wholly unconscious invitation to be ravished in all his days.

The Lord of Imladris was supremely glad he was over six thousand years old and had learned long ago to master the art of pheromone suppression so that even as he sat behind his desk with the most painfully rigid erection he could recall experiencing, ever, his body did not give off any tell-tale traces of subconscious scent that might alarm the young warrior who had just divulged this lurid craving for bondage, mild torture, and multiple sexual partners. He savoured the enticing view before him, a more perfect representation of the helpless victim than he had ever seen, and offered up a silent prayer of thanks to Estë for sending this incredibly desirable and troubled ellon to him. Legolas wanted to be used and abused and the legendary healer was ready to oblige.

Yet he mastered the temptation to accept that unspoken invitation and let the moment pass in its own time, reassembling the benign smile when Legolas put himself back in order and sat straight.

"I believed I had become unhinged." Legolas returned the smile, his distress lessened so that now embarrassment came to the fore. "You must think me depraved and perverse."

"Nay, not so," Elrond admonished, but could not deny he had been thinking exactly that. "Your character and natural personality have not altered just because you experience these dreams."

"So everyone goes through something like this?" asked Legolas. "I wish someone had explained it to me sooner."

"It is not so easy to do, though, for while sexual fantasies are a universal experience, they are as individual as each person, varying widely not only between different cultures but even between family members. Thus they remain private, a domain that can only be shared with a select few, and are rarely discussed openly for reasons you can surely appreciate."

Elrond appreciated it, relishing the throbbing tightness in his cock, anticipating the moment of fulfilment that would relieve the pressure. Yet, Legolas was his patient and he would never use his authority and renown as a learned healer to manipulate a patient into a wild, passionate coupling here and now on the smooth leather surface of his desk. He could certainly command it; Legolas would do anything he told him to do, anything to end the agony his hormones inflicted on his untried body and his unschooled mind.

"True; I had to travel thousands of leagues to find someone to tell," Legolas was saying. "You have eased my fears considerably, but what do I do about it, Hîren?"

Here was a loaded question and Elrond had to re-align his rear in the seat as his aching organ gave a spontaneous leap forward. "There are many choices. You can give in to them or fight them, as you please. I would not recommend giving in just yet; it is not a gentle fantasy," he advised carefully.

Legolas, he knew, had already offered himself to Erestor, an ellon who more readily inspired others to terror than desire. Given the theme of danger in the dream that was not surprising, but there was something about all this that just didn't fit, a sense that the scenes were not creations of Legolas' pent and frustrated needs but visions inflicted upon him from a more mature and seasoned mind. His was not the romantic imagining of a neophyte. There was more going on than simple lust and Elrond did not want to make an error that would scar the youth, ruining his ability to enjoy a healthy sex life. The azure depths stared into his, the soul behind them desperate for reassurance and Elrond responded.

"As I said earlier, such erotic visions can be used to enhance sexual intimacy and as long as all parties are in agreement and appropriate precautions are taken, then there is no harm done and much pleasure results, even as it does in your dream." He paused, trying to find the right way to broach the dark elements underlying the prince's vision. "Yours is, however, quite a mature fantasy, especially for an ellon with no experience in such matters."

"So it is unusual," Legolas said unhappily, not surprised Elrond knew he was a virgin; he would expect a healer so famous to possess that kind of insight. In fact, he believed everyone knew it and in his forest world he was not wrong, for the evidence of his latent sexual potential was both visible and olfactory. He was plagued by a nearly perpetual erection and surrounded by a cloud of pheromones that travelled wherever he went, a silent but undeniable seduction wafting through the air infecting all in his vicinity with arousal.

"Yes," Elrond answered directly. "There must be a reason such a detailed scene has become fixed in your mind." Perverse pleasures were not unknown among elves, but they were not very common and a fantasy such as Legolas had just described generally only developed in response to some kind of sexual trauma. He chose his next words carefully. "The images have more a quality of memory than make-believe. Its roots may be tied to a real event, something you saw when you were very young, too young to understand the nature of desire and thus became frightened."

"What?" Legolas was wide-eyed and horrified. "Are you saying I watched this happening to someone else when I was a child?" He stood and paced to the window, glaring at the soothing landscape beyond the glass. "Impossible!"

"Nay, it is not only possible but your strong reaction makes me even more convinced," Elrond replied, rising and joining him. He set his hands on the prince's shoulders and turned him round. Legolas was again lost and bewildered and fearful, conditions he could not abide as a mature and respected warrior, the son of his nation's Lord and King, and this turmoil was plain in the eyes that lifted to meet the healer's gaze.

"Lord Elrond, surely I would not forget something like that," objected Legolas. "I don't have any such recollections from my childhood. Everything was normal during my growing years."

"There's that unfortunate word again," smiled Elrond and massaged the shoulders as he steered Legolas back to the desk and sat him down. "It is not uncommon for a child to suppress a frightening event. It is also the case that children, if they inadvertently witness it, often mistake sexual intercourse for violence, thinking their parents are hurting one another. If you saw a scene of bondage enacted by your father and mother, it would be deeply troubling and you would not have been able to process it, shutting the images away from your mind. Now that your sexual awakening has begun, the scene is re-emerging in a new guise."

"My parents would never do anything like that!" exclaimed Legolas, a look of pure disgust twisting his comely features.

Elrond laughed a little as he resumed his seat. "So all children think, no matter how old the passing years make us. It is never easy to associate sexual intimacy with people so vital to us and so removed from our individual carnal impulses."

"Aye, but to do that which I imagine?" Legolas shuddered and shut his eyes tight. "It cannot be."

"Something has triggered this overt response," Elrond pointed right at the crux of the prince's legs and Legolas hastily closed them, tugging down his tunic. "Whatever it is, this deeply buried memory must be uncovered and stripped of its power to frighten and confuse." Once that was accomplished, then he would gladly strip the comely warrior of his garments, his inhibitions, and his innocence. He smiled at the distraught archer.

"How can it be done? I have no recollection of such a thing," Legolas repeated his protest. "Nor, truth be said, do I want to remember it if it is as you say. I do not want to see my parents play out this scene." Again he shivered and even wrapped his arms about his chest, going decidedly pale.

"Do not fear, there are means to help you both remember it and banish it, all without making you consciously aware of doing so," said Elrond. "I have performed this type of cure before, though it is usually required from those who suffered the trauma of war and the bloodletting that accompanies it. Some of the elves living in Imladris were children during the kin-slaying at Sirion, and I helped them cope with those horrific memories. Indeed, it is because a great healer did the same for me that I became inspired to master the art myself. Thus, I express my gratitude by sharing the gift given to me, a gift of peace and tranquillity."

"Aye, that is verily what I need. I knew you could help me, Lord Elrond." Legolas did not add that he had imagined a rather different sort of cure.

His father had as much as told him that all he really needed was a lover and then relieved his son of active duty until he got himself one. The prince, fearful of reprisals should he reveal his bizarre cravings to anyone at home, had come away to decadent and dissolute Imladris, home of the immoral, licentious Noldor. No sooner had he set eyes on their august Lord than Legolas began imagining Elrond quenching the ardent fire in his loins by bedding him. Unbidden the idea arose: if he disrobed and offered himself here and now, would the legendary ellon take him? Legolas found his respiration suddenly increasing and flushed as he saw recognition flicker through Elrond's grey eyes. He turned his gaze to the interior of the room and inspected a finely embroidered tapestry without once acknowledging what the picture represented.

Elrond's heart leaped and his brows rose minutely; Legolas wanted him, not from the warped perspective of the overpowering dream, but here and now as they sat in his office. Legolas, virile virgin prince, wanted Elrond, icon of wisdom and strength, to be his first. He would fulfil that desire gladly and permitted a small hint of his aroused state to permeate the air, watching as Legolas' nostrils flared when he caught the scent and caught his breath. The archer's bottom shifted about in his chair and he cautiously returned shy and guarded eyes to the healer's.

"All things in their proper time and order," murmured Elrond calmly, for himself as much as Legolas, and watched in exultation as a bright spark of excited anticipation kindled in the cool blue depths. "When this memory is exposed and dealt with, then you will be free to explore your desires in any way you may wish."

He paused and rose from the desk, hands clasped behind him as he wandered out into the room.

"The key ingredient in sharing such cravings, of course, is trust. While the excitement of being helpless as others spend their pleasure in you, the sense of being powerless to effect your own release, denied orgasm until permitted by those who have mastered you, all this is highly stimulating, yet these sensations balance on a keen edge where torture and titillation mingle. It would not really be enjoyable to be drugged, bound, and raped by three males."

Legolas' sharp intake of breath was not surprising, but he did not respond to it, waiting to see what the prince might say. There was only silence.

Elrond's casual stroll had carried him to the door which he quietly bolted. He removed his heavy outer robe and hung it on a hook beside the portal, then sauntered to the sideboard again. There he poured two goblets of wine and finally returned to the desk where he perched along its edge, propping one leg up so that his crotch was facing his patient, the soft black silk of the trousers draped over his engorged penis. His pants being less restraining than the Wood Elf's skin-tight leggings, the degree to which he was excited was not a mystery. Legolas' eyes were fixed there and only when the glass was thrust under his very nose was he able to look up into Elrond's face.

"Do you trust me, Legolas?" the lore-master asked quietly.

Legolas raised his glass with a hand that trembled and took a swift swallow, eyes glued to Elrond's the while.

"Aye, Hîren," whispered the Wood Elf, "I trust you."

"That is good," smiled Elrond. He sipped from his goblet and watched Legolas struggle to keep his sight fixed on his face. "I want you to understand that I will permit no harm to befall you and will guard your trust as I would a precious treasure."

He stood and extended his hand, grave and serious. With but a second's hesitation, the archer settled his long deadly digits atop it and Elrond pulled him upright. Now they walked hand in hand from the desk, the Lord of Imladris leading the prince of Greenwood to a nook beside the hearth where a set of luxurious leather upholstered arm chairs faced one another across a tiny round table. He handed Legolas into one and settled in its twin. Now they sat, the little circle of wood between them, and surveyed one another, slowly consuming the amber wine.

At last the suspense was too much and Legolas spoke. "What is going to happen, Hîren?"

"I am going to uncover the source of your fantastic phantasm," announced Elrond. "To do this, you and I must be joined."

Legolas inhaled sharply and his mouth fell open as he sat back, spine rigid in surprise to hear the idea voiced so coolly, cock rigid in anticipation for what it meant. "Joined?" he managed. "As in " and he stopped, unable to actually say 'as in your cock rammed up my ass' and found other words more socially acceptable. "We we would become lovers?"

"Perhaps, that remains to be decided later," grinned Elrond, pleased with the responses his suggestive phrasing elicited. "What I mean is that I must suspend your spirit in somnolence and walk with you through the dream-scape of this staged rape. Within your mind, I will be free to dismantle the set and the scenery, revealing the deeds for what they are."

"Ai Valar," gulped Legolas, white and nervous. "You are saying you believe I witnessed such an atrocity in truth." His whole body shook in revulsion but his arousal did not abate. "How could I turn something so horrible into a lurid scene of excitement and desire?"

"Nay, I do not mean that," corrected Elrond, but the prince's assumption was telling. "Just the opposite. I think you saw others playing at bondage and torment and thought it was real. Where all are adults and consent has been given, there is no trauma involved, or at least none that is not desired. I believe you witnessed sex of a variety more violent and painful than is generally discussed, either by our parents during explanations of the process of reproduction or by scrolls readily at hand in libraries. Having no internal resources through which to assess the scene, your mind assumed it was an act of pure violence while your body responded to the high sexual excitement. Can you see how confusing all this would be to a very young elf?"

"Indeed, for it is entirely incomprehensible to me now," averred Legolas, still uneasy. "How will you walk within my dreams and what is meant by suspending my spirit?"

"Here is where your trust is so vital," Elrond said. "I will have to employ a powerful source of enchantment. Not a drug, but a form of energy that will bring down the barriers guarding your inner essence and permit mine to enter in. Our minds and hearts will be separate yet united. What you experience I will see.

"I must caution you, this will be stressful and we will come through this with a deeper understanding of one another than many lovers share. There will be a bond betwixt us, of a sort, that will likely endure the Ages. So it is with others I have helped with this procedure, and given the sexual nature of the dream ours will likely become that of lovers, at least for a time."

"Tawar min beria," the Wood Elf mumbled and gulped the remainder of his wine. This was not how he'd envisioned his first time would be, adrift in some kind of trance with an ancient elven Lord roaming about in his head, poking into all his secrets and sharing all his memories. "Will I know you are there? Can I stop it if I don't like it?"

"No, you will not be able to banish my presence but I will not be visible to you. My voice alone may intrude, for this is necessary to guide you toward understanding what you relive. I propose nothing less than peeling back the intervening years between that pivotal event and today, observing as you re-experience the moment when the memory was distorted and recorded and then repressed."

"It sounds like you're saying, in as nice a way as possible, that you will be controlling my mind and that I will be helpless to stop you from exploring every inch of my heart and soul," Legolas said, but he shivered as he spoke and the frisson was not a product of fear.

Elrond noticed and his pulse gave a mighty surge. This was going to be a challenge for him in more ways than one. "That is partially true, and again I give my solemn word that I will respect that trust and guard your privacy as my own. Yet neither will I be privy to everything within your heart. We will explore this one issue and no other, unless you wish more. I will see what you see and those thoughts and feelings most strongly linked to the sights will come through to me, but I am not going to inhabit you body, Legolas, or seize dominion over your mind."

"I thank you, yet give as well the means for my soul to traipse unhindered through your psyche and then mayhap I will be less repulsed by the idea," Legolas bartered with the lore-master, but even to his own ears his demand did not sound very firm. Still, pride insisted he state this condition before he would capitulate. He was a warrior, the son of a mighty King among elves; he could not just surrender to another elf without at least demanding terms.

"Gladly," Elrond understood what was going through his patient's thoughts but would never injure Legolas' ego by pointing out that he wanted nothing less than to be subdued, overpowered, and utterly subjugated to another's will. He doubted, when given the chance to go exploring in Elrond's memories, whether he would be willing to take so much as a peek.

Yet, exciting as the prospect of delving Legolas' fantasy life was, it was much to ask of him. It had taken Legolas two weeks to find the courage to admit his problem; obviously, sexual aberrations were not acceptable in Greenwood else he would have dealt with the problem there. Plus, the memory would likely be intense and the scene highly upsetting. There was a technique Elrond employed with those reliving horrific and gory battles and he had not thought to use it here, but on consideration decided it was a good idea.

"I do not want you to feel trapped inside your mind, a prisoner within your own history; such would be damaging. Let us devise a means for you to communicate your desire to leave the memory and awaken. Choose an animal, Legolas, that is easy for you to call to mind and with which you feel a sense of kinship or identity. If the procedure becomes too difficult to endure, bring this animal into the scene. As soon as I see it, I will exit your mind and awaken you at once."

"An animal?" Legolas' brows rose. It was all very strange but he could not deny it was intriguing and he wanted to take this mental journey with Elrond. "Very well, I choose a swallow, one with yellow bars upon her wings."

"An excellent choice," Elrond smiled. "Shall we begin?"

"Now?" Legolas squawked, stiffening in his chair as his eyes moved from Elrond's compelling stare to the lore-master's right hand where, poised and hidden, reposed the Ring of Air, then on to the black silk pants and their tell-tale tent. He tore his gaze away and looked again into the calm and commanding visage.

"Yes, now would be best," insisted Elrond, rising and taking the glass from Legolas' hand.

He carried it with his to the sideboard and left both there, moving to another section of the room where there was a wall lined with shelves from floor to ceiling. On one of the shelves was a small soapstone box and he brought this back with him, setting it on the table between them. The lid lifted off to reveal a set of long, clear crystals of varying lengths which he withdrew. The ends were smoothed flat and he set them upright, arranged in a small circle. Reaching into the box again, he brought forth another gem, this one a squat six-sided pyramid the colour of midnight, and placed it in the center of the circle. That accomplished, he reached a last time into the box and lifted from it a thin and delicate wand of stretched and twisted glass, vivid streamers of colour running through it like ribbons, all joining in a small bulbous end. Elrond closed and put aside the box on the floor beneath the table, raising his stormy grey eyes to the archer's vivid blue ones.

"What do I do?" asked Legolas nervously and licked his lips.

"Watch the crystals," said Elrond and lifting the wand struck the squat black gem in the center lightly on its pinnacle.

A deep, clear note rang out and the rest of the crystals responded, emitting a softer, brighter chord which ended in a beautiful flowering of pale blue light which blossomed up and wafted into the air before dissipating. Legolas had never seen anything like this and raised astonished eyes to Elrond.

"Watch the crystals, Legolas," admonished the healer and was pleased when he was obeyed without objections.

Now Elrond began tapping the taller crystals in sequence, the pattern unrecognisable to Legolas, the ringing notes arising from the contact forming a music strange and compelling but not unpleasant to hear. Within the sound he could hear Elrond murmuring some kind of spell but he could not make out the words for they were in Quenya and spoken in tones low and deep which complimented the crystals' song. He watched the swirled glass wand moving from jewel to jewel, trying to learn the pattern, but it kept changing while the music thus created conversely built seamlessly into a theme of mesmerising enchantment.

Suddenly Elrond struck the large black pyramid again and its strong, bold note rang out, inspiring the crystals ringing it to erupt another burst of blue light, save this time the gleam did not billow up and out but remained, strands of the clear, cerulean beams linking the tall clear shards to the obsidian gem like spokes to the hub of a wheel. The lore-master continued playing the blades of stone, incorporating the occluded central gem regularly, and the thin bands of light began to pulse and expand, the wheel rising, the spokes seeking, and the spectral illumination touched first Legolas, who was bending near, and then Elrond, absorbing them within the growing cloud of luminescent music.

New colours appeared, shades of lavender and magenta shot through with rich gold, and innately Legolas knew these additions came from his own aura and from Elrond's. The music changed, too, and slowly he felt a sense of recognition within it and it was comfortable, inviting, and he sought to sink deeper into it so to bring full realisation of its beauty to his soul. Then he heard a mild exclamation of wonder and surprise from the elven Lord as his voice drifted through the light.

"Ai, Legolas, this is your music and it is both beautiful and complex. Share with me, young one; guide me to the time of the dream."

Now the wheel of light-song had grown to encompass the space around them yet the room was not as it had been. Legolas beheld a hazy corridor lined with tall white columns around which twined the vivid green stems of Morning Glories, the blue trumpets nodding as if touched by a gentle breeze, bright patches of brilliant sun paving the ground beneath. He rose and set his foot upon that path and Imladris vanished. He was home. A burst of joy filled Legolas' heart and got loose from him in a loud whoop as he broke into a run and raced between the columns, bow in hand, calling for his mother.

Elrond ran alongside, unseen and unfelt, and marvelled at the elegance of the place, wondering at the grand house that came ever closer as Legolas ran. They veered away from the main entrance and skirted fair gardens where fountains played, weaving through a great maze with ease and popping out the other side into the service area of the estate. A large cook house was obviously Legolas' goal but he was waylaid before he reached it.

A tall, dark-haired elf reached for and caught the archer's arm, dragging him to a halt, and a stern and disapproving face glared down upon him.

"Just where have you come from, Thôn Thent (Short Pine)?" he bellowed. "Off playing orcs and warriors, no doubt." He peered down at the small elf, hands on hips, but his menace was all manufactured and there was a kindly gleam in his deep green eyes.

"Nay, Adar Edwen (Second Father), I am too old for such silly games now. I have just come from my first day of training, as well you know. I want to tell Nana about it. I struck the target on the first draw and received praises for "

"Oh! Praises and boasting now? I do not believe you. Prove it; take aim and fire an arrow into that sack Pentrandir (Wandering Tale) is carrying on his back," the tall ellon pointed and Elrond followed Legolas' eyes to the sturdy servant trudging along on the far side of the grounds, bearing a bag of flour.

"Nay!" gasped Legolas, aghast. "It would not be safe! The first rule of the bow is never to arm it unless I am either in battle or on the training grounds. I would be expelled from the class if I obey you!" His high, fair voice was fraught with worried dread but this anxiety was quickly banished as the ellon laughed aloud and then praised him highly.

"Well said, Legolas, you pass the test. I would not permit you to continue the training had you obeyed my order and placed everyone in the yard at risk. Well done!" he exclaimed a second time and reached his hand to lay it on the narrow shoulder, squeezing tight, affectionate humour in his smiling face. "Go to your naneth now and tell her all, but do not impede her work for there is a great ball tonight."

"My thanks, Adar Edwen, I will stay out of the way," and Legolas was off again, walking now to the cook house, greeting various elves passing through the busy estate's grounds.

The elleth was waiting for him and suddenly her beaming face peered around the opening of the door, eyes alight with both happiness and sorrow. It was so obvious that she wanted to run out and envelope her child in her arms but she restrained her maternal heart and waited patiently for her son, no longer a henellon to be coddled and kissed but a novice warrior. Her days with him would grow ever shorter and the gaze she trained upon him was busy memorising every nuance of his slight and willowy frame. She had sent away this morn her babe and now returned to her a little soldier, her son's swagger imitating that of warriors ages old.

"So, you are back. Is there cause to be pleased that I consented to this course?" she demanded, trying hard to make her expression serious and solemn. Even Legolas could not manage to hold the illusion and burst into delighted laughter as he threw himself into her ready arms.

"Aye, Nana, all is well. Gil-orthad (Rising Star) says I will be a fine archer and am certain to earn a commission when I come of age." He searched her eyes and found the loving pride he hoped to see and hugged her again before letting go. "I am hungry; is there food ready?"

"Indeed, Brannon Dithen (Little Lord)," said the merry elleth with an exaggerated curtsy. "Right this way; your platter awaits filled with all those delicacies you most love." She led him inside and Elrond followed.

He watched with a happy heart; the staff in the kitchen were unified in their affection for Legolas and all eager to offer him congratulations and listen in rapt attention as he described his first day of real training. Each offered him some special dish prepared just for him to honour the occasion and bowed, calling him Brannon Neth in playful deference. Elrond was charmed by the scene and gazed long at Legolas' mother for he had never seen her before. It was clear enough Legolas favoured her, sharing the golden hair, the slight, elegant bone structure, and the vibrant blue eyes. Their laughter mingled, the timbre and tone almost identical for Legolas was not yet at that stage of adolescence when the voice deepened.

He was not surprised by Legolas' scarcity of years, having expected the source of the troubling dream would be found in childhood, and enjoyed seeing the archer in this stage of development: graceful and beautiful and innocent with the promise of his mature form just starting to show. It gave his heart a sweet but wrenching ache.

The meal ended and Legolas stood, tendering his mother another hug before moving to the door. There he paused and looked back at her for long minutes and sadness inundated his heart. He lifted his arm, holding the bow aloft as would any warrior giving salute. "Namarië," he said quietly and his mother raised her hand as well.

Tears welled up and flowed down her face. "Namarië, Nín Tuilinn Dithen (My Little Swallow)," she choked out and then Legolas turned and passed through the door, parting from her and from the life he had known and loved.

At once an expanse of dark and swirling night surrounded them, an impenetrable cloud lacking the normal physical determinations of earth and sky, a void filled with nothing but horrfic gloom and unbearable grief. A sense of motion and movement made the strange, thick air roll and quake as they passed through it, for they were still walking. Abruptly the dense black fog cleared and a new setting appeared, a broad meadow awash in the reduced colours and shortened depth of the gloaming, the Evening Star serving as bright escort to Ithil's slender silver crescent.

Elrond's mind reeled in stunned amazement. They had just crossed a threshold spanning several years and he understood through Legolas' sorrow that he had returned to the cook house only to see his mother once more, for she was lost to him soon after.

Questions abounded: why was Legolas' mother working among the servants? Who was the ellon he addressed as a second father? Elrond wanted to delve for answers but he could not disrupt his guide's concentration. The lore-master had never had a patient capable of directing the course of such a journey so easily and he could not account for it. Little time was there for such and he scanned the new view of Legolas striding across what he now realised was not a meadow but the training grounds of the same estate. He was on his way to retrieve his arrows from the target.

Here was a more familiar figure, the lanky shanks bearing him forward in a casual but measured gait, hair swaying in a gleaming, golden swath bound in warrior braids, garb clearly a uniform of some kind dyed in smoky blue and grey colours, just like the wings of an evening swift. His face was grim and set, a scowl marring his features and anger swirling through flashing blue eyes. Legolas was alone in the evening twilight, firing at targets to release his rage, a practise that would become a signature trait of the quiet archer.

The anger worried Elrond and he carefully sifted the seething fury to winnow out the cause. He was shocked anew: with just two years remaining before his Coming of Age, Legolas had been denied entry into the senior ranks of the archery class, relegated to begin training with less elegant weapons. It was evident he considered this beneath him and was humiliated by the reduction in status. His whole identity was bound up in being an archer and it was clear he blamed the demotion on his brother.

By this point he had retrieved all the arrows and shot them back into the target again, stalking out to gather them once more. The traditional means of expelling his anger was not working and he made the decision to confront his brother and exact revenge for ruining his life.

Elrond, suddenly alarmed, realised he was not in control of the situation at all. His efforts to break through the barrier of virulent rage were ignored. He could do nothing but follow as Legolas paced through the silent and empty grounds, wishing he had chosen an animal totem for himself with which to end the enchantment. The Lord of Imladris gazed into the high and starry sky; there were no swallows.

TBC


	3. Chapter 3

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

_WARNING: this part is very dark and includes an extended and traumatic scene of drug-induced capitulation to kinky sex with a minor. It isn't pretty and it isn't meant to be and if it bothers you to know such things can and do happen to good and decent young people, then don't read this chapter. For those who think elves cannot do bad things to one another, read the Book of Lost Tales and/or the Silmarilion. The story's conclusion will be ready in a few days and it returns to the mood of light humour found in the first part and will be a sweet and happy ending for all. This is your only warning, folks. Read at your own risk._

**Part Three: Truth is Subjective **

There seemed to be a great celebration in progress, the mansion fairly ablaze with light and laughter and music. Elves danced and sang and conversed, regally attired and elegantly poised, waited on by deferential servants in livery befitting a noble House of the Elder Days. Elrond gaped in amazement at the soaring columns and the decorative mouldings, marble floors and wainscoted walls, sculptures and fountains and friezes that put the best decoration and design of his home to shame. Legolas' abode was not a house; it was a palace.

The prince's ire had not cooled and the memory unfolded heedless of Elrond's commands to stop. He could only tag along as Legolas stormed into the vestibule, the bow still tight in his fist. He would have rushed amid the revellers but once more a strong hand grasped his arm and pulled him to a halt. Elrond saw it was the same tall elf addressed earlier as 'Adar Edwen', garbed in the formal suit of a seneschal of the House.

"Do not hinder me, Aldarion," hissed the archer and yanked free. He sought to get around his kinsman but was quickly blocked by the tall ellon.

"Nay, you must not do this. I know you are angry, but this is not the time to confront him."

"Why, because it is his Begetting Day, his Coll O Gwedh? I will tell Hîren Adar what he has done, for such injustice is no credit to the House of the Swallow."

"He knows, Legolas," Aldarion said quietly. "He is not pleased, but he cannot gainsay his own promise, no matter the ill-use to which those words were put. It has been the custom since Nénar's Coll O Gwedh: what the new Lord decrees on the first day of his majority stands as if Duilin himself spoke the words. You must not disrupt the celebration else you tempt even greater ill-fate to befall you. Tomorrow you may plead your case, but today Ambarónë is Lord of the House."

There was silence as the two shared this unpleasant truth and then Legolas just deflated, the fire of his anger dying out to be replaced by a hopeless and hollow stoicism. Seeing this, Aldarion was moved to compassion and set his hand on the young ellon's shoulder.

"It will not always be this way, Thôn Thent, thelionen (Short Pine, my sister-son). Your value will shine forth no matter the weapon you wield. You were not born with a bow in your fist, though some might believe it since it never leaves your hand. Treat your new station with as much diligence and integrity as you have the first. No less would my sister do; no less do I expect of you."

Now Elrond's eyes were opened in the naming of this noble Lord Duilin of the House of the Swallow and a cold chill gripped his heart. He was not a spectral guest in blighted Greenwood's hidden city beneath the trees. He was in the City of the Singing Stones.

This puzzle was beyond his skill to unravel and he wanted only to return to his comfortable study where the young son of Thranduil simply hoped to find a trustworthy lover for his first encounter. Here was a task for truly ancient folk, Galadriel or Galdor or Mithrandir. Nay, worse; he was in the province of Námo and Estë; how could he hope to heal a wound so grave as this must be? Elrond had not felt so ill-equipped and untried since his novice days in Lindon. He must break the enchantment before this terrible history came to pass.

"Legolas," he spoke softly but firmly, "let us go from here, pen neth." To his utter shock both elves turned in his direction, Aldarion's eyes darting around the empty foyer while Legolas focused a sad, proud gaze directly upon him.

"Who speaks?" demanded Aldarion, groping for the dirk at his waist. Legolas laid a hand upon that arm.

"Be at peace, it is just a comrade without, come to bear me company on this troubled night. Your words are wise, Adar Edwen, as always, and I will do as you say for my mother's sake." So promising, Legolas retreated into the night and walked amid the gardens, Elrond beside him. "Stay with me," said the archer to the healer, "even as you promised. There is a debt betwixt us and I will demand its redress if that is required."

"Nay, I have given my word. You need not call in that debt. Yet I fear "

"Speak no more; this is not about your fears," admonished Legolas, voice hardened as that of any veteran warrior's and Elrond obeyed him.

The laughter and music of the celebration drifted after them along the shadowed paths they walked. Gradually the odd juxtaposition of Ages dissipated and once more they became submerged in the past as if it were the present, Legolas on the cusp of majority, Elrond the unseen voyeur to all that transpired.

Legolas did not return to the training fields and his restlessness did not abate. At one point rage and despair overwhelmed him and he cast his bow away into a thick hedge of roses, then seconds later dived amid the thorns to retrieve it. This small eruption of petulance was witnessed by an unseen person whose mocking amusement rang through the dark ere he stepped into sight.

"Oh, what an image you make," he laughed again. "Still a child, unable to master your emotions or accept your place in life." He was tall and dark haired, a lean and dashing ellon of obvious rank, dressed for the party in clothes of satin and silk, the colours subdued by the night into shades of umber and charcoal that could not obscure the richness of the cloth or the refinement of the design. His eyes glinted above grinning lips as he crossed his arms before him and surveyed Legolas with unhidden appreciation.

"I am no child, Malantur," retorted Legolas. "In two years it will be my turn and I will have my revenge on Ambarónë." Yet in his heart he knew this for the lie it was; he would never be a Lord of the House. His companion did not challenge him and instead he felt the heat of the ellon's gaze and consoled himself with that, pleased to incite this level of interest for Malantur was older and noble among their people. "Why aren't you inside toasting his majority? I would have thought you and he would end the night together."

"Oh really?" Malantur grinned as he stepped closer and gathered Legolas' arm across his, leading him along the path again. "What can an innocent know of desire's fulfilment?"

"Innocent I may be, but I am not a babe. I know all about the card games in the cellars," snorted Legolas, and instantly an image flashed through his mind and into Elrond's: a decadent quartet of elves, two males, one this elf Malantur, and two females, revelling in orgasmic frenzy.

It swirled away as fast as it arrived for Legolas was enjoying the present and the proximity of one who plainly found him alluring, whether he would ever be a Lord or no, no matter that Malantur named him a child, thinking he did so to restrain himself thus by remembering his companion was not of age yet. Flirting was a safe and pleasing way to explore his dawning sexual power; Legolas knew he was beautiful to see and that many an eye followed him wherever he went.

"What?" exclaimed Malantur in mock astonishment. "You've been spying on us? That is very naughty, Legolas, and such sights should not sully so pure a heart and mind." The ellon set his hand on his young companion's chest and stopped him. Turning to stand face to face, he stared long into the archer's eyes. Then he smiled. "I knew you were there, once, but you fled away so quickly I had little time to note whether the game excited you. Did it?"

"Aye," admitted Legolas boldly. "I only ran because it is impolite to intrude on something so private. I didn't know what you were doing in there until I arrived."

"Oh, this I know," nodded Malantur and drew Legolas into motion again. He led the way around the house, steering his companion toward a wing less bright with candlelight and less crowded with guests.

Abruptly the scene shifted and Elrond found himself inside a simple but well furnished sitting room, watching Malantur seduce Legolas, plying him with wine and compliments, encouraging his resentful jealousy of his brother. The young archer was already intoxicated but the learned healer realised there was an edge to his inebriation and suspected the drink was laced with a potent stimulant, though he had not seen the ellon administer it, this because Legolas himself had not. There was no doubt in his mind what was about to happen here but the elven Lord was powerless to end the drama, his promise given.

It was plain enough that Legolas wanted him to see what happened, needed him to understand this part fully, and knowing the nature of the fantasy he was here to unmask, whatever followed must be much worse. Elrond felt sick inside, fearing what Legolas had endured.

"Did it shock you to learn Ambarónë did not wait for this day to indulge his carnal desires?" Malantur was saying.

"Nay. Aye." Legolas shook his head, confused, and frowned. "I know he hates me. He holds himself so aloof, so perfect. His has no acquaintances who are not Lords and will mix only with the very highest among them. Hîren Adar thinks he can do no wrong." Legolas took a long swallow from his glass. "I despise him! I am better at archery and better at lessons, but none of it matters. He will always be favoured over me."

"Oh, but he is so envious of you, Legolas," crooned Malantur, refilling the half-empty glass, pleased with the disjointed and rambling replies. "He knows you are more skilled and more intelligent, and undeniably more beautiful. Besides, you will not be expected to wed some predetermined Lady and join Turgon's court. You will have freedom to do as you please with whomever you please while he will become a virtual slave to duty."

"Honours await him," fumed Legolas, "but for me, only service."

"There is great honour in service," countered Malantur. "I would be well pleased to have one such as you bound to my House." His words were couched in sultry tones and he settled a heavy hand over the archer's thigh, squeezing. "What say you to that? Would you be willing to suffer my dominion?"

"Dominion?" Legolas' eyes fell to the hand on his leg and then lifted to meet the hungry stare fixed upon him. Malantur wanted him and the knowledge set his blood racing. He was hard in what seemed to be seconds and while he had dealt with that before, this time there was a biting, gnawing ache he did not recognise. It permeated his whole body and leaked into his soul and the nexus of it all was Malantur. He wanted Malantur and imagined him nude, wondering how he looked, what his cock felt like.

"Aye, dominion." Malantur's hand slid up to the ellon's crotch and blatantly massaged the rigid organ confined there. Legolas grunted and spread his legs wide and Malantur grinned. "Why, Legolas, you are aroused. Do you find me appealing, young one? I am flattered indeed."

"Nay, it is you who wants me," snickered Legolas smugly, watching the hand map his erection and trace his balls, wriggling to increase the erotic sensation, breath hitched and ragged. He wondered if Malantur would untie the leggings and touch him. A soft groan escaped his throat but he barely acknowledged it. "If we were playing the game, you would lose on purpose just to get a kiss."

"A kiss? Yea, you shall have it then," Malantur laughed and leaned forward to sample the succulent red lips which pouted for him prettily but did not part. He sat back and shook his head in dismay. "Valar, you are innocent!" he exclaimed.

"Nae, is it so terrible a thing to be? You were so once, were you not?" complained Legolas. "I would like another kiss now."

"Would you? Nay, that is not what I want, but you are too immature to understand," Malantur withdrew his hand and rose with a sigh. "If only it were not so." He strolled toward the door, for these were not his rooms. "I think I will go now, for I have plans and you are not suited to join them."

"Oh, you have procured maids to celebrate the great day after all," seethed Legolas, throwing his glass across the room as he shot up, furious and humiliated. "You have been teasing me and now you will go and laugh about it with Ambarónë. Get out!"

"I am going and do not think to sneak away to spy on us tonight, henellon, or you shall regret it sorely," and with this challenge Malantur departed.

Legolas went after him and slammed the door shut so hard the boards quaked. He stood there glaring at the portal a time, scowling over Malantur's final words, never realising the drug magnified the idea in his thoughts and linked it to his unquenchable desire. He believed the decision to defy that order was his own. His departure went unremarked, only a phantom guardian to watch over him.

It was a nasty little cellar, dimly lit by a single flame, dank and dark, cool and damp; there was a cistern near. This room was used for storing wine, the bottles arrayed in high shelves that defined the limits of the space while casks stacked in a corner held more of the vintage, ageing to maturity through untold numbers of years. The young elf kneeling naked on the stone floor, hands bound behind his back, would not have so long to wait.

Elrond was in great distress, seeing this and knowing he could not stop it, realising it had already happened and he was here to bear witness to it. If a phantom can tremble in impotent rage then so Elrond's wandering spirit shook. A great deal of time had simply been edited out of the memory, the seduction far advanced now. He had no inkling of the journey to this place or the events preceding this point in time; what sweet lies and tenderly invasive touches Malantur had employed to get this far. The Lord of Imladris found he was grateful for that. His companion was not frightened or disturbed, gazing at his captor through a haze of sexual excitement beyond any wet-dream. A bottle upright and uncorked stood on the floor beside a discarded glass, attesting to the reason for Legolas' deepened state of arousal.

Malantur was perched on a chair, his tunic laid neatly across its back, pants undone, penis and balls crowding the opening, protruding proudly through the gaping fabric. He kept his hands firmly anchored to the seat and devoured his captive's reaction, noting the parted lips and wide eyes as Legolas looked upon him.

"Do I measure up?" he asked chuckling, "or is mine the first you've seen, hard and erect just for you?" Of course he knew his was the first and that gave him a thrill that made his shaft leap. The sight made Legolas gasp and Malantur uttered a profane oath, shifting on the chair. "Well? Can you do no more than stare? Did you not tell me you wanted to know what I looked like and how I felt?" His voice shook a little and he caught his breath, holding it as Legolas slowly leaned forward and darted out his tongue, dabbing it daintily across the glans of the ruddy cock.

"Ah!" Malantur jolted in his seat and scooted closer to its edge, eyes locked with the archer's shyly triumphant gaze. His breath came and went in mighty gusts, but he managed to encourage his lover anyway.

"Aye, again, Legolas, kiss it gain." He was obeyed and the instant the full red lips touched his flesh, Malantur snatched hold of the long golden hair and held the retreating head close. "Nay, no going back. Here is what you wanted. Does it please you to see a cock rigid and aching just because you're near? Nay, no words from you," he gave the hank of hair a sharp jerk and Legolas made a complaining noise. "I know it does. What a distraction you have been to me, Legolas, parading yourself around, so smug and proud of your beauty, your power to excite, so safe and secure in your virgin skin. It's the smell of you that drives me mad, I think. Now pleasure me, little swallow."

Legolas did, learning how to suck cock before he learned how to kiss and never knowing there was anything strange about that, eager for his lesson. He lapped the long shaft from root to tip, enveloped the head with his lips, lavished his tongue over the tiny orifice to coax forth the slick and tangy sap from Malantur's root. He applied sufficient suction to make the ellon squeal and pivot forward, felt the surge of heat as the thick erection plunged almost to the back of his throat before retreating again. He was an able and willing student and soon knew the thrill of hearing his lover's groaning cries of urgent, anguished delight as his mouth was fucked. All the while his body hummed and sang in reciprocal excitement, but when Malantur came he instinctively recoiled from the bitter injection, turning aside to spit in disgust. His lover was not displeased and laughed, patting the crown of his head with affection.

"You'll become accustomed to that in time," he promised, eyes bright and chest heaving. His gaze ran over the naked ellon with satisfaction; he had tied Legolas' hands with the tunic of his uniform, an unprecedented debasement given that he would never wear it again after this night. He ran his hand through the yellow mane and took the fair face by the chin, tipping it up to catch the light across a high, flushed cheek. His brows rose at the expectant and openly hungry expression in the shining eyes trained upon him. Perhaps he had used too much of the drug, for he rather enjoyed the shamed panic that generally overtook his conquests at this stage in the game.

"Now do me, Malantur; you promised," pleaded Legolas and shifted closer on his knees, rigid shaft bobbing there between his legs.

"Oh, you want to be sucked?" teased Malantur. He laughed as Legolas nodded vigorously.

With a groan of contented fatigue he rose and lifted his captor to his feet, guiding him deeper into the small room, taking the candle from its place atop a barrel to light their way. It's dancing lick of fire revealed a corner furnished with a sturdy bed, bare of linens or drapes or pillows. There was a rude shelf upon the wall where stood an oil lamp and a range of glass bottles and other indeterminate things; there Malantur set his candle as he sat Legolas on the mattress. He used the flame to ignite the wick, adjusting it so it didn't smoke and then replacing the clear glass globe. The illumination increased so that Legolas' pale flesh and the bright red nipples were accentuated, his engorged cock an obscene finger of flesh jutting into the air.

"Here?" Legolas queried, leaning back on the thick feather bedding, thinking this was far better than the cold hard floor or a bare wooden chair, but his hands were still tied and prevented him from being comfortable. He frowned. "Untie my hands, Malantur."

"Nay, that would spoil things," smiled the ellon. He rummaged about on the shelf a moment, collecting items that he hid in his hands, and knelt beside the reclining elf. He bent close and kissed Legolas, fondling his cock as he did, and now the archer knew to open for his tongue and did so. During the distraction of this oral stimulus, he quickly attached a heavy, hinged ring around the base of Legolas' cock. It snapped shut with a loud click and must have pinched the tender skin, for the ellon yelped and jerked on the bed, trying to roll away from Malantur.

"Ai! What have you done to me?" demanded Legolas, and now there was a hint of fear in his voice.

"Making sure the fun doesn't end too quickly," grinned Malantur. "Being a virgin, I doubt you could last long otherwise."

"What do you mean? Take it off, Malantur; it hurts," insisted Legolas, struggling to free his hands and get the thing off him.

"No good struggling," volunteered Malantur. "You came here of your own accord. I told you not to follow me. Now, I will do all in my power to ensure you reap the full measure of your decadent lust." He reached for the rigid cock and stroked it firmly, smiling a smug and knowing grin as Legolas groaned and pushed into the contact. "See? You want what I've planned for you, Legolas. Did I not promise to teach you all about pleasure?"

"Aye, but I "

"Then relax and enjoy the experience. After this night you will no longer be an untouched and untouchable child. Now, turn over on your knees, pen neth."

"Why? What are you going to do?" Legolas meant to pull away but just then Malantur rubbed his thumb over the glans of his cock and he felt the familiar coiling rush of orgasm. He shuddered, wailing in misery as he realised the real purpose of the tight ring clamped round his genitals. "Ai, nay, nay!" he cried and in his agony allowed Malantur to roll him over.

He lay panting, face pressed against the clammy ticking, trying to calm the seminal surge rippling through channels that were closed. When slippery hands gripped his bottom he barely acknowledge it, but when a slick, thick finger shoved inside his anus he shrieked in protest. "Daro!" he cried and struggled to get away from the burrowing digit, trying to kick Malantur.

"Oh, be still but a moment longer, you silly child, and all will become clear to you," scolded Malantur. He leaned the weight of his body against the squirming elf and once more fisted the protruding cock. His efforts were rewarded soon enough as he found the right spot and stroked across the hidden gland. Legolas went still and then shuddered out a loud shout of shocked delight. Malantur laughed. "There, that's better," he crooned and continued massaging the swell of nerves and fluid.

"Malantur!" cried Legolas. "What Ai!" He was straining into the electric touches, frantic when he felt the finger retreating, desperate to hurry it when it re-entered, all the discomfort vanished and his desire raised to a level he couldn't even wonder about, so intense was the sensation. A second and third finger were added and the new sensation of being stretched full engulfed him.

"Like that?" chuckled Malantur. Legolas could not even answer him and he deemed the moment had arrived. He was hard again and already well oiled, having taken care of that when he'd oiled his fingers, and eager to sink his cock inside the unbearably tight hole he had so diligently prepared to receive him. He removed his probing digits and stood, shushing Legolas' incoherent protests as he rearranged him more to his liking, propping the archer face down on the bed, ass aimed at the edge of the mattress. With great relish he mounted the virgin warrior and fucked him soundly, pleased and proud of the garbled pleas and aching moans his thrusts evoked, spilling with a shout of glorious triumph.

Exhausted, he pulled out and flopped upon the bed beside his trembling lover. Smiling into dazed and shocked blue eyes, he raised a hand and brushed across the soft, flushed cheek. "Be content, Legolas. Honours you desired and here is the first of many. You've been claimed by an elf of noble blood, Malantur son of Meglin, nephew of Turgon, King of Gondolin. Remember that I took your virginity and taught you the ways of such pleasures."

Legolas could not find the means to express his confused thoughts or define his boiling emotions. He was still aching in terrible need, both furious for being left this way and desperate for Malantur to grant him release, hoping the ellon would plunge inside anew, shocked by the sensation of emptiness in his soul as Malantur's seed oozed down his thighs. Before he could sort through any of it, a loud commotion arose outside, the sound of many voices raised in raucous song, the words muffled but the tone brash and bawdy, slurred by drunkenness and filled with lustful anticipation. The door burst open and a trio of noble warriors piled in, all finely dressed if a bit dishevelled.

"Ai, Malantur, you knave; you've started without us!" shouted one and the others laughed.

"Do I not deserve some reward for my risk? Aye, I've had the first taste and you are in for a treat," drawled Malantur. He sat up and tendered the quivering rump beside him a small, loving slap, meeting Legolas' panicked eyes with a smile.

"Then you must abstain from the first hand of the game," insisted another voice.

"Agreed," said Malantur, closing his sticky trousers and rising. He strolled to meet his friends. "Who has brought the cards tonight?"

On the bed, Legolas rolled to his side that he might identify the warriors and then wished he had not. There settling down at the card table were his brother and two of his high and mighty friends: Egalmoth, Lord of the Heavenly Arch, and Glorfindel, Lord of the Golden Flower. Egalmoth was ancient, an elf of the Awakening who had been to Aman and back, a mighty swordsman, and a close friend of the King's.

Legolas shivered to think of this bold and experienced ellon sheathing his cock within him, heart rate increasing as just then the Noldorin Lord turned and ran his eye over the naked figure curled on the bed, smiling as he met the wide blue eyes, offering a quick and friendly wink as though they had been comrades for centuries and had played this game together hundreds of times. Harsh laughter sounded from the table.

"I think he likes you, Egalmoth," the sneering voice said and Legolas recognised his brother's mocking tones. He shut his eyes, sickened and shamed for Ambarónë to see him like this.

"Nay, it is Glorfindel he really longs for," remarked Malantur. "I've seen how he struts and preens whenever he knows Gondolin's youngest chieftain is near." They all laughed, the handsome golden-haired Lord with them.

"Is it true, Legolas?" he called, the words coated thick with inebration as hungry eyes scanned the bound elf. "Have you dreamed of me as you pleasured yourself?"

"Aye," Legolas admitted, his answer barely a whisper, his heart shrinking into a cold and bitter stone within his breast for they all found this highly amusing.

"Just like his naneth," scoffed Ambarónë, "but at least he cannot be impregnated and foist some bastard child upon a noble House."

As fate would have it, Glorfindel won the round and came to the bed eagerly, turning his prize over and lifting the lean legs high upon his shoulders. He ploughed inside without preamble, sight locked on the fair face, and watched for the moment when he found the sweet spot, encouraged by the others who rose to watch. When he found that spot, Legolas was overwhelmed with need and realised he was begging for Glorfindel to fuck him hard and make him come, but he could no more control his words than he could quiet his aroused body. The Lord of the Golden Flower pounded into him, coming with a roar amid the laughing cheers of the audience.

So it went. They all had Legolas to the full at least twice, sometimes in pairs, sometimes singly, all but Ambarónë using him. The middle son of Duilin, newest Lord of the Swallows, stood at the foot of the bed and savagely cursed his half-brother, hissing out vile insults and dire threats as the others spent their ardour. Sometime before it was over, the restraint was removed and Legolas was granted his release, but he had no idea who was fucking him when the moment came and fell into exhausted stupor as his seed smeared the bedding.

At the closing of his eyes, blackness obscured the hideous dream, yet Elrond, heart broken and nerves frayed beyond bearing to witness this cruel debasement, realised it was not over.

Like a new dawn breaking, bright light announced the beginning of a new series of events. Time sped at a furious pace now and the elven Lord watched as the scenes flashed by. For an instant he was with Legolas in the office of Lord Galdor, his kinsman, receiving a harsh rebuke for the night's activities and in this way Elrond found out that the horrible event had been made the subject of gossip throughout the realm. It became equally clear that save for Malantur and Ambarónë, none were aware that Legolas had been drugged, not even, he was shocked to learn, Legolas himself.

The archer accepted the low evaluation of his character and morals imprinted by the sordid night of drinking, gaming, and licentious excess. He was blamed for bringing low the esteemed generals of the realm, and he accepted that without question, too. He had gone after Malantur knowing about the games he and Ambarónë played; therefore, he must have desired to become the prize to be won by their sport. It was true he had desired Glorfindel and still did. It was true he had enjoyed the pleasure their attentions wrung from him. It was true he would do the same again. Aye, he must be depraved and low, unfit to be named a son of noble Duilin, Lord of the Swallows, not even a bastard son.

Thus was Legolas' ruin achieved.

Elrond saw his removal from the grand estate, led away by Aldarion who did not forsake him, though his nephew's fall meant the end of his career with the House of the Swallow, a comforting arm cast about the bowed shoulders. He watched as Legolas took up the green uniform of the House of the Tree, reduced to a lowly recruit, out of place as the eldest among youthful novices who avoided him, trying to learn to wield an ungainly club studded with sharp spikes of iron. He pushed himself to succeed and did so. Eventually, he rose to the rank of lieutenant and earned grudging praise from Galdor.

Centuries fled away in seconds, the images a blur of emotions, here and there a scene more vivid standing out, a comment of particular note sounding through the torrent. The lurid tale lost its power to enthral the populace, but this did not free Legolas from its doom. Elrond saw that he remained trapped by the desires awakened that night and became a regular participant in Malantur's continuing games, though he was not made to endure the presence of his brother again. As predicted, Ambarónë married and had a family. Yet Glorfindel was there almost every time the games commenced.

Through the venal and lurid couplings a bittersweet truth emerged: that Legolas had come to love the lord of the Golden Flower and the feeling was returned. Yet because Legolas had sunk so low, Glorfindel, a prominent and respected member of the King's court, could not act on his devotion and legitimise their relationship. Malantur, shunned by Ambarónë, also clung to the fair archer and, perhaps regretting in part his collusion with Duilin's middle son, took to arranging quiet, discreet, and secret assignations for Glorfindel and Legolas, though the card games did not cease, for Legolas was addicted to the sensations introduced that fateful night.

Another shift tilted the world and suddenly Elrond was racing through streets aflame littered with the bodies of elves and orcs and balrogs, a slick film of ruddy ooze coating the paved way, a vile stench of burning flesh stinging his senses as his eyes burned and vision blurred from the swirling clouds of smoke and ashes. There was Legolas, fighting beside Galdor, desperately trying to clear a way for Glorfindel and his last remaining warriors, the troop beset by a mix of foul things from Morgoth's warped and depraved mind. He took a glancing blow from a heavy sword but never faltered, bellowing in rage as the whip of a balrog snaked past him and singed Glorfindel's hair.

Elrond understood. Legolas needed to show that he had redeemed himself, that his courage was not false and just as his uncle had promised his worth shone through, that his heart was true no matter the debasement endured by his body. No sooner had the realisation coalesced than the scene again dissolved and now they were in flight over the mountains, Legolas at the lead on account of his keen vision. Chaos broke out and the women and children screamed in terror; a balrog was in their midst. To their aid leaped Glorfindel and just as Legolas turned to see this, a desperate cry upon his lips, a flock of swallows swarmed up from the chasm and obscured his view.

The next instant Elrond was back in his study, the table overturned, crystals scattered and broken, Legolas crouched on the floor vomiting up wine and bile in noisy, sobbing heaves as tears streamed down his cheeks.

TBC

**_NOTE: Ok, I know the story of the Fall of Gondolin (my favourite tale Tolkien wrote) and that none of this happened, that this is peopled with folk never named, and that some of the actions attributed to the named 'good guys' will upset some people. 'Glorfindel would never!' and all that jazz. Well, he was drunk, probably drugged with the same stuff used on Legolas, and we have Legolas' nasty brother probably assuring him it is not the first time. Ditto for Egalmoth. All of that is implied in the txt and if you missed it here it is in bold type._**

**_Nor do I think Legolas of Gondolin and Legolas of Greenwood are the same elf, but sometimes I like playing with that idea. I always write AU and that's what this is. The story began as an intense but humourous PWP and then I ended up surfing the rock slide again and so this emerged. It will return to lighter humour for the conclusion. Thanks for those reading and especially those who have reviewed, and if I lost you here, well, I'm sorry about that._**


	4. Chapter 4

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Four: Whether Shall I Wander **

Elrond knelt beside Legolas, unsure of what to say, his usual stock of wise and consoling phrases inadequate, his glib and ready tongue cleaving to his palate as he fought the need to retch. He must give him something, some means of coping with this situation, so bizarre and frightening it had to be for the young archer, but Elrond did not even know whether he was crouched beside Thranduil's son or the sharp-sighted guide to the refugees from Gondolin. He had little time to ponder the enigma as there arose from without a violent confrontation of voices arguing and then a hand tried the door.

When it didn't budge, the latch was yanked and rattled impatiently and then the ponderous thud of a fist striking wood announced the ominous presence of a most determined petitioner.

"Open this door!" Glorfindel's deep voice boomed out, fraught with both rage and anxious dread. "Elrond, open I say! What are you doing to him? Legolas, can you hear me?" The hammering began anew and with more zealous effort, drowning out Faelon's pleas to cease and desist.

Elrond leaped up and raced for the portal but just as he reached it a fierce shout preceded a savage kick and the bolt ripped through the jam. The door flew wide, missing his face by centimetres and slamming into the wall with enough force to bounce off and slap against the Balrog-slayer's deflecting hand as he exploded into the room. The Lord of Imladris stood in stunned disbelief, eyes wide as they measured the probability of his certain doom at the hands of his loyal master-at-arms, that worthy Vanyarin Elda transformed into the very incarnation of righteous wrath, a murderous fire raging through his soul. Elrond thoroughly understood how the Balrog must have felt.

"Where is he? What have you done?" bellowed Glorfindel, glaring into the astonished face of his Lord. Then he pushed past him and stood scanning the room, frantically searching for the young archer. "Legolas? Can you hear me? Speak!"

"Glorfindel, this is inexcusable!" snapped Elrond, recalling he was the ruler of Imladris and planting himself back in the path of the frantic ellon. "Legolas is not in danger here. Please leave; we will speak of this unwarranted and barbaric intrusion later." Elrond was sure Legolas did not want any more witnesses to his current state of wretchedness, especially Glorfindel. He was thus surprised when a faint voice answered the ancient warrior.

"I hear you," Legolas said. "There is no need for alarm."

Both the Lord of the Golden Flower and the Lord of Imladris turned to see him standing pale and trembling, supporting himself against the armchair, making futile efforts to right his appearance. He attempted a wry smile. "I seem to have overindulged and my stomach rebelled. Lord Elrond is aiding me."

"Truly?" queried Glorfindel softly, taking a step closer, the simple word reverberating with the conviction to act at once if there was need, regardless his fealty to the House of Eärendil. His heart made a painful jolting jump as he scrutinised the archer; Legolas looked terrible and it had to be more than excessive drink that ailed him. "You called my name."

"Did I?" This surprised Legolas and his healer; they shared wide-eyed looks as he answered. "I was not aware of it. Forgive me for causing you such needless worry." He made an effort to bow but had to right himself quickly before he collapsed. That set his upset stomach to churning anew and his face took on the cast of spoiled milk. Frantic eyes flew to Elrond's as his lips and jaw clamped together tighter than a vise.

"Through there," Elrond pointed to an open arch and Legolas ran stumbling through it. Ere long, the muffled sound of fresh heaves punctuated the tense atmosphere. Elrond set a firm hand on Glorfindel's chest as the ancient soldier made to follow. "Nay, mellon, you know he does not want you to go in there and witness this. You have embarrassed him enough for one day."

"I?" Glorfindel was taken aback. "What have I done? He called for me; I mean only to ensure he is all right."

"He is not all right, as you have seen, but neither is his life in danger here. As to what you've done, we'll be discussing that in depth as soon as I am satisfied he will recover sufficiently to rest for a time."

"What are you talking about?" demanded Glorfindel, indignant, and drew his frame up tall and proud. "I have done nothing to harass Thranduilion. How dare you imply I "

"Daro!" commanded Elrond, angry on his patient's behalf, remembering Erestor's words. "I don't know yet exactly what has happened to Legolas, Glorfindel, but I know you're involved in this so don't deny it."

"I do deny it," Glorfindel stated gravely. "I swear on the oath I gave to Manwë ere I left the Blessed Realm: I have no wish to harm Legolas."

"Then even greater need is there for us to understand what is happening," replied Elrond, still doubtful though he had never known the noble warrior to lie. "Yet, this is not the time and I am sure you understand Legolas is in no condition to endure such a discussion. Please, mellon, if you would aid him, then go." Elrond tugged on a thickly muscled arm, relieved to feel the dangerous mood relenting as the fire banked in the Balrog-slayer's beryl eyes.

"Very well," grumbled Glorfindel, permitting himself to be turned round and herded to the door. He looked back to the open arch anxiously for all was quiet in the interior rooms. "You are sure he will be all right?"

"No, I am not, but I will do all in my power to help him." Elrond promised, unable to offer better consolation than this. He surveyed the worried countenance trained upon him; Glorfindel certainly did not appear to be hiding anything sinister. His distress was quite genuine and his concern for Legolas sincere. Why, the elven Lord wondered, had he gone secretly to Greenwood if not to seek out the namesake of his former lover?

"Does he share your view that I am the cause of this distress?" the Balrog-slayer asked suddenly, halting and peering in horror at Elrond. "I beg you, assure him it is not true."

"I don't know what he thinks because you broke down my door in the middle of a very delicate yet demanding procedure," Elrond pointed out tersely, "but I don't believe he holds you to blame for it, whatever it is." He sighed. "Glorfindel, go and let me see what can be done to resolve this dilemma."

"Aye, you know best; you are the healer." He took two more steps before he balked again. "Perhaps I should wait in the anteroom in case he calls for me again. Ai, Elrond, there was such despair in his voice!"

"Mellon, I understand your concern, but you heard him say he was not even aware of crying out and this I attest is true, for neither did I hear him do so."

"Aye," Glorfindel nodded but clearly was not content.

They reached the door and he was passed through into the cloud of scowling censure surrounding Faelon who waited, hands on hips, to escort him from the office. The fearsome warrior looked appropriately contrite and sheepish, seeing the splintered door frame and the secretary's disapproving frown.

"I told you to wait," scolded Faelon.

"Aye, you were right," apologised Glorfindel, exiting the office and pulling the door shut behind him, tendering his Lord a penitent shrug as it failed to latch and drifted ajar.

Elrond shook his head and poked at the battered frame, picking away a long sliver of wood. It was certainly proving to be a most unusual day. A slight sound behind made him turn and there stood Legolas, half revealed in the arch, looking less like a shade escaped from Mandos but shaken and confused nonetheless. He had made an effort to clean himself up a bit, his hair damp where he'd rinsed away vomit and the soiled tunic left behind. The sour odour still clung to him and permeated the room, enhanced by the vile puddle soaking into the rug.

"He has gone," assured Elrond, motioning Legolas into the office. "Come; we need to find a more suitable place and you could use a bath. Let us escape through the side door."

"Aye, thank you," mumbled Legolas, passing the armchairs and their disordered state with his head down. He lifted sorrowful eyes to Elrond. "I am sorry about the crystals," he said. "I don't suppose they can be repaired."

"No matter; I have another set," smiled Elrond, no longer in doubt that he had Legolas of Greenwood in his office.

There was no distress in the prince's eyes beyond that which such total loss of composure in front of his elders would normally induce and the lore-master was glad he did not remember the degrading history revealed through the trance. At least the properties of the spell had held true in that regard, though the manner in which Legolas of Gondolin had managed to seize control was unprecedented in Elrond's experience. Then again, he'd never treated a re-born elf trying to recapture a past life-time and meld it to the current one.

Elrond's features betrayed his own confusion and discontent with what he'd witnessed. Was Thranduil's son truly Legolas of the House of the Tree reborn? Thus it seemed, else whence came those memories, yet if so Námo had released him too soon, in the healer's opinion. Still, he had a patient to tend and Legolas Thranduilion was a mass of nervous strain and fatigue, adrift on the shifting tides of hormonal surges common to elves his age. There was another inconsistency and Elrond decided to resolve it immediately.

"What is your age, Legolas?"

"I am one hundred twenty five, Hîren," he replied calmly but even this simple statement made colour rise to his cheeks. He sent a distinctly bitter look Elrond's way. "I know; it is far past the age when most ellyn reach maturity," he added defensively. "Everyone was wondering if I would ever get to this point. Many thought I would remain a child forever and I was more relieved than you can know when the changes finally started. I am not so excited about it just now, however."

"Legolas, the onset of puberty does not occur at an age defined by some sort of law. Everyone is unique and you need not apologise to me, or to yourself, for your specific natural development," Elrond counselled, taking a firm grip of the archer's arm and leading him toward the door. He was intrigued in spite of the dire condition of his patient's emotions, for every time they spoke the case became more convoluted and more questions arose. Was it possible Legolas had subconsciously suppressed his own maturation due to the horror of what had happened to him in his previous life?

"Ai Elbereth, he was so determined to get in," Legolas remarked, for they had reached the evidence of Glorfindel's rash and violent entry. Now the prince sought the healer's eyes with such a shy and fearfully hopeful expression that Elrond's heart wrenched to see it. "He was coming to my aid?"

"Aye, he was," Elrond watched Legolas carefully but there was no sign of that hardened warrior he'd briefly glimpsed here now. There was also no longer a suffocating cloud of sexual desire, neither round Legolas nor himself. "How do you feel about that, pen neth?"

"Ai! Glorfindel is bold and fair, Hîren, but what of our bond?" The scarlet flush suffusing the comely face was endearing, joined as it was by such a winsome smile and shining eyes. Here was at last an understated shred of ego, just a sprout of pride, and Legolas stood straighter, pleased to have caught the interest of two such renowned Lords.

"Legolas, you and I are not tied by any bond such as you mean. The trust of healer and patient we do share and I am glad for it, but I think you can acknowledge that the physical attraction has dulled a bit." Elrond held his mirth in check as he watched disappointment and relief war for control of Legolas' features.

"So we will not be lovers?" asked the relieved youth and then: "Mayhap it is not a thing to decide right now," the disappointed suitor added.

"A wise evaluation," Elrond grinned broadly, liking this Wood Elf more and more. "Let us deal with the immediate problems first and as I said before, once that is done you may explore your desires freely. If it becomes clear that I am the one you want for your first partner, then know that I will not refuse you unless I deem it would harm your well-being."

"That is fair," Legolas tried on an attitude of experienced, debonair gallantry and was pleased when Elrond affirmed it.

"Fair, indeed," he offered, letting his eye roam freely for just the right amount of time and then opening the door, bowing Legolas through it.

He led them away from the house and Legolas' heart sank, thinking they were heading back to the House of Healing. Must everyone know he was ill? He was sure the entire household was talking about his mishap at dawn and he would have to endure a lot of stares at the evening meal along with a slew of jokes about the novelty of using tea as a means of enticement. Suddenly the idea of being confined to the infirmary was not so unpalatable. Yet Elrond again took his arm and guided him a different way and in time they came upon a quaint and delicate gate, the entry into a fair maze, though at first it did not register as one. No high hedges or thorny shrubs defined it; instead tangled vines of intertwining jasmine and honeysuckle trained over trellises and arbours delimited the space.

It was a maze in design but not construction, Legolas soon realised, and thought it a strange idea for in places the walls vanished, allowing glimpses into the false turns and dead ends. These were transformed into little garden spots, some with fountains, others with shallow stone birdbaths, most with only a simple bench. For all that it was open, Legolas could not deny he felt potent energy round the place and longed to stop and sit a while, each nook more inviting than the last, so that he was disappointed as they progressed.

"My wife's invention," explained Elrond, knowing the effect the unusual structure had upon visitors. "She desired a secluded spot yet hated the idea of forbidding walls of stone or impenetrable yew. She liked even less the notion of making someone so confused as to lose their way while trying to locate her secret lair. So she added a touch of her particular magic to it, deciding that it was better to prevent visitors from disturbing her by encouraging their natural desire to sit and enjoy the beauty here."

"Aye, I was getting most perturbed because you failed to stop at three cul de sacs where there are flowers I have not seen before," laughed Legolas, grinning. "I think it is a wonderfully courteous kind of magic. Much better than a stream that puts one to sleep and robs one of memories."

"Oh, indeed, yet here there is no need for stronger measures as there surely is in Greenwood," smiled Elrond, pleased to hear his guest more relaxed and at ease. "We will go to the centre, for that is really something unique. I believe you will be able to sleep undisturbed by dreams of any kind within."

"I pray you are right," nodded Legolas fervently. "I have never felt so unquiet and uneasy in my own skin. Is it this way for everyone?"

"No, not quite so severe as your troubles with it," he admitted, stopping to address the question fully. "For most it is exciting and a bit frightening but the burden of that fear is created by mild doubts and insecurities about one's allure. The dreams you are experiencing are not common, though sexual dreams are expected during this phase of maturation."

"You said as much before. Was the spell ineffective? I came out of it in great turmoil, ill and frightened. Can you tell me nothing?"

"I don't want to mislead you, Legolas, and neither do I want to form a judgement too quickly. There is much I need to consider before I can decide how best to proceed."

"But what happened?" Legolas implored, shooting a furtive gaze at Elrond and then away, brow furrowed and hands fidgeting as if he very much wished he had his bow to hold. "It had to be terrible; I revived under a sense of utter despair and a grief so profound I cannot bear to think about it."

"You did indeed," Elrond nodded. The last thing to happen was Glorfindel's death and given Legolas' of Gondolin's feelings for him he would expect nothing less. "That has left you now," he remarked, glad that it was so.

"But what does it mean? Did you learn the cause for my problem?" Legolas pushed for answers.

"I don't know," Elrond replied honestly. "The revelations were unexpected and I've not had the chance to consider their implications. I know you are worried and I do not mean to keep you in doubt. Truthfully, I must seek additional knowledge before attempting to interpret what I saw. Just let it go for now, Legolas," suggested Elrond, setting a comforting hand on the ellon's shoulder and through it coursed the healing power of Vilya to dispel Legolas' fears. "What I want is for you to refresh yourself and take a much needed rest. Here, see if this is not the perfect place for both." So saying he ushered his patient around the last barrier and into the centre of the maze.

Legolas inhaled and released a sigh of wonder and delight; never had he seen a place so serene and inviting at the same time. It was a garden proper with beds of many kinds of herbs and sweetly scented flowers, but at its exact midpoint was a bright, sparkling pool. The pond was artificial, a simple oval delved into the ground and then lined with tiles. A fountain at one end made the water dance and kept it fresh while adding the bubbly music of a tamed cascade. Skirting it was a rim paved with more tiles and set about with chairs and tables and benches of cedar. The sunlight bathed the spot with warmth and light that was not too harsh, thanks to a broad arbour shielding part of the pool. To one side there was a gazebo hung with gauzy curtains, a place to discard clothing and take up various oils and soaps and salts available therein.

"How beautiful," said Legolas, walking to the pool and crouching to dip his fingers in the water. "It is cool but not cold, warm but not hot. This is an amazing garden!" he enthused, looking back to Elrond, who stood smiling proudly and enjoying his guest's response.

"I thought you would appreciate it," he replied. "Here you will bathe and then rest there on that bench, the one already made up with downy pillows. There is a cotton robe, light and fresh, to don should you feel the need, though none shall disturb you here." He chuckled at Legolas' astounded expression.

"Did you plan to take me here before?" he asked.

"I thought about it," Elrond shrugged, choosing not to react to the suggestive verb Legolas used, "but had not yet decided. Now I think my heart had willed it so but just didn't inform my consciousness."

"I thank you for sharing Celebrian's Maze with me," Legolas stood and bowed solemnly, another hint of colour staining his cheeks as he interpreted that message through the filter of his newly awakened sexuality. Would Elrond stay to watch him bathe? At once he imagined another ellon here with him, an image of Glorfindel naked beside him in the water washing his back, and the surge of desire he felt was strong but not upsetting. That must be how it was supposed to be, he decided, liking the warm throb settling in his groin far better than the gnawing ache and constant erection that had assailed him these last two months.

He strolled the perimeter of the pond and let the magic of the maze envelope him in tendrils of gentle welcome and soothing solace, feeling as if all his cares were being stripped away from him one by one. He felt lighter of heart and suddenly halted, stretching up tall on his toes, raising arms as high as he could and craning his face skyward, an unbidden smile overtaking his visage.

"Ah, it is good to see you so at ease," Elrond laughed as Legolas came back to earth and met his gaze with a beaming countenance. "Now I will leave you to rest and recover. You are to sleep covered in the blessings of Estë and no cares or visions will trouble your repose. You need true sleep, not just the respite of waking reverie. Let your body heal in this time and I will return before the evening meal to retrieve you. Once we have dined, for I have no doubt you will be famished, then we will set about unravelling this conundrum."

"I will do as you say, Hîren," agreed Legolas. "You are certain none will know to seek me here?"

"I am sure," nodded Elrond, smiling in kindly amusement at the return of the ellon's libido, for without the tunic to cover it Legolas' arousal was noticeable.

He left the maze pleased to know such spontaneous and natural responses were still possible for him, confident Legolas would explore his lust for Glorfindel by the more traditional forms of fantasising and masturbation, untroubled by the lurid scenes of the past. His path led him back to the Last Homely House but he eschewed his office, feeling the need for another consultation, and descended to the lair of his worthy seneschal. As per the norm, Erestor was expecting him.

"Had I suspected it was this serious, I would have written Thranduil for details as soon as Legolas arrived," the tall ellon complained. He'd just been treated to a thorough account of the morning digression into the life and times of Legolas, both the child of Thranduil's erotic dream of passionate enslavement and the night-sighted hero of Gondolin's actual seduction and rape. Now Erestor paced to and fro in slow, carefully measured steps, a departure from his normal stillness that did not grant his kinsman's heart succour.

"Then you believe he is reborn?" Elrond was not surprised, as he could find no better solution to the riddle, but Erestor flashed him an aggravated scowl.

"Did I say that?" he snapped. "Stop hastening to conclusions; we've hardly any facts at present."

"The visions were real, to this I would swear," Elrond argued. "How could he know any of it if he had not lived through it? Legolas' anguish and distress were genuine, as was Glorfindel's frantic desire to rush to his aid."

"Ah yes, our intrepid Balrog-slayer," droned Erestor, his tone not very complimentary at all. "That is what I would know from Thranduil, for Glorfindel's arrival in Greenwood coincides rather suspiciously with the onset of these dreams burdening the young Wood Elf."

"How can you surmise that?" Elrond was startled; it was not a connection he would have considered though he was curious over Glorfindel's sudden visit to the forest realm.

"I asked Legolas how long the dreams had been going on; didn't you?" Erestor could see from his cousin's chagrined expression that he had not and snorted a deprecating laugh. "Of course, I knew about Glorfindel's little personal errand. I am almost certain he went there demanding to meet Legolas and that Thranduil ran him off. We are not the only ones who know the weight of historic events. He's deeply worried about his son."

"I am not surprised by that." Actually, Elrond never ceased being surprised by what Erestor knew of events both near and far. Obviously, he'd had news from the distraught father before Legolas' sudden appearance in the hallway outside the office of the Lord of Imladris. "Yet would Glorfindel's interest cause these dreams if Thranduil's Legolas is not also Legolas of Gondolin?"

"Mandos is not a prison," Erestor remarked cryptically and resumed his sauntering stroll about the study.

"Ai Valar," groaned Elrond and he had to go sit down. This was not what he'd hoped to hear, though he'd already considered it; in fact, this very fear had sent him back to confer with his seneschal. A heavy sigh raised and lowered his shoulders and he stared at Erestor in grim dismay. "You think we must put it to the test, then."

"I do," nodded Erestor and joined him on the sofa. "How soon can you have the crystals ready?"

"At once," Elrond sighed again. "I have a second set."

"That is well. The sooner the better."

"Aye, Legolas is suffering terribly."

"Aye."

"Tonight?"

"Tonight. Here would be best for at least no word of it will get abroad."

"You can supply everything needed?"

"Of course."

Yet neither moved to set this plot in motion for each dreaded undergoing the strain such a procedure involved. Indeed, neither one had ever tried it before and the practise was known only through ancient texts dictated by Melian herself in the Time before Time. Minutes ticked away as the two elven Lords brooded over the situation and eventually Erestor stirred, rising just prior to a polite knock upon the door.

"I sent for Glorfindel," he announced and ushered the reborn ellon inside. "Thank you for coming," he said with a dip of his head, but his tone was cool and the menace in his voice increased another notch. It made the mighty Balrog-slayer cringe just the faintest bit.

"Of course," Glorfindel nodded, surprised to find Elrond here also. He looked from one to the other, suspicious and wary of their vaguely accusing stares. "What is this about?"

"You went to Greenwood recently," stated Erestor without preamble. "To what purpose?"

Glorfindel's eyes widened in astonishment to discover his movements so carefully marked but he did not let it loosen his tongue. "Yes, I did and the reason is none of your business, Erestor."

"That won't do," admonished Elrond testily, rising. "We've cause to suspect your visit was the catalyst for what ails young Legolas."

"What? That is preposterous!" blustered Glorfindel, face going red. "I only met him once formally at a ball. We barely spoke."

"Why so, since he is the reason you went there?" Erestor queried.

"Thranduil told you all about it, no doubt," the mighty warrior complained, the words rife with rancour. "What if I did want to court him? Is it so wrong? I sent the most courteous request in the old manner, pleading my case to his father when really I might have just gone straight to Legolas. He is of age, after all. Thranduil is smothering his son; that's what drove Legolas from the woods."

"I think not," Elrond shook his head in aggravated disappointment. "Glorfindel, I know what Legolas represents for you, but to go there and foist that hope upon him was unconscionable. Sharing the same name does not mean they must share the same spirit. He deserves to live his own life, mellon, not merely become the validation for yours."

"Is this why you so readily agreed to return to Middle-earth?" demanded Erestor. "How did you know of his birth? Did Námo grant you this knowledge?"

"You are ensnared in the convoluted mesh of your devious mind, Erestor, inventing this tortuous plot to account for what should be self-evident." Glorfindel pointed at him, his honour wounded by such a charge. "I came back at the behest of Manwë even as I said. If you doubt my integrity then speak with Mithrandir and he will verify my statement." He turned on Elrond then. "That you would think this of me is too harsh. I did not know of Thranduilion before coming here, but when I found out then I could not help but hope. I had to see him. Since you seem to understand my motives, how can you accuse me of trying to do him harm? I would never ask him to assume an identity not his own; indeed, such isn't even possible to do."

"Oh, have you become one of Námo's disciples?" retorted Erestor acidly. "I think not; therefore, you can know nothing of what is possible in the realm of spirits."

"Enough!" shouted Glorfindel. "I'll not endure your abuses, Erestor, for I have committed no crime. What can you know of Mandos? I at least have dwelled in the spirit realm and thus understand it a little. If you are so keen to increase your knowledge, then I will happily slit your lying throat and get you there."

"All right," Elrond got quickly between them, though he knew well that Erestor's baiting was only that, designed to push Glorfindel past the barrier of denial into revealing his heart. "Let us not fall to violence either in word or deed, my friends," he said soothingly, catching Erestor's eye to indicate he was satisfied. "We all want to help Legolas overcome this nightmare in which he has become mired."

"Aye, at least we agree on this," growled the reborn warrior, glaring into Erestor's chilling and remorseless eyes. "If there is aught I can do to assist him, then name it. Legolas is everything to me and deserves only happiness."

"Very well," intoned Erestor gravely. "I warn you now this once and never again, nor will I hear reprisals from you over the results achieved by the cure. We need to test whether this Legolas is your friend from Ages past or a bright new soul beset by an ancient and woefully wounded one."

Glorfindel allowed a small gasp to escape him and recoiled a step from Erestor. He sent an accusing frown at Elrond and then faced the seneschal. "You speak as though you know much more of our history than I would like," he spat.

"Be that as it may," Elrond intervened before the combatants came to blows. "Your evasive words tell me you have become worried about this possibility yourself, Glorfindel. The time for this dissembling is far past, mellonen. For the sake of Thranduil's son and your benighted lover, set aside your reservations now and help us do this thing. He cannot remain free long, if such is his state. You more than we two understand the danger to an un-housed soul wandering loose in these dark days."

Silence filled the confines of the sumptuous salon as the implications of these words burrowed deep inside each one's heart and mind. The horror of it was inescapable and this at last broke through Glorfindel's resolve. He collapsed in a chair and covered his face with a piteous groan.

"Curse Melkor!" he seethed. "He does not deserve that fate after all he has endured already."

Elrond went to him and settled consoling hands upon his stooped shoulders. "Nay, he does not. If he is reborn, then he has come free of Mandos too soon and suffers still. The procedure will give him healing and allow him to relinquish that painful past."

"Or, should he be not reborn, then Thranduil's son is not to be used this way by him, his body taken and his spirit ousted so that his namesake may be here with you now," Erestor warned of the other, equally plausible scenario. "Then he must be convinced to return to Mandos and submit to the judgement of Námo, as must all who perish by violence and grief."

Glorfindel raised his head and peered long at Erestor, seeing now that he had Legolas' interests foremost at heart. For this, he would willingly endure all the slurs the Noldorin Lord could fling upon him. He offered the wily seneschal a grim smile. "So be it; we are in accord. Either way, Legolas needs our help. What must we do?"

"Ai, it will not be pretty or pleasant, I fear," sighed Elrond. "We must take him back into that history and there coax from him the truth. If he is your Legolas reborn, then he will face the demons of the past and subdue them. If he is an un-housed spirit, then we must confront him with his abuse of a free-born ellon living the life granted him by Eru. You will have to convince him to go back to Mandos, Glorfindel."

"You know of a means to achieve this visitation?" Glorfindel almost hoped the answer was negative but looking upon his comrades he already knew the answer. He sighed and rose. "There is something you have not said," he challenged. "Speak; whatever it is, it cannot be worse than what I have already seen in two life-times."

"Do not be so sure," cautioned Erestor and this time his words were filled with compassion. He looked away frowning, lowering his proud countenance in shame.

"Indeed, Glorfindel. What we must do is recreate the original ordeal, hoping this will lure Legolas into revealing himself," explained Elrond.

"Nay!" Glorfindel stared at them in disbelief. "You would ask me that? Valar, I will not add to his hurts in that way. I have sworn it everyday since my death, that should I be granted another chance at life, I would honour him as he deserved. He never did harm to anyone but was punished unduly nonetheless. There has to be another way."

Their silence spoke for them and Glorfindel had not the heart to protest anymore. Between them swirled the reality that if they were wrong, then they would have perpetrated upon an innocent the same degradation suffered by Legolas of Gondolin. The only consolation was that Elrond would exact agreement from his patient before the spell was cast. It was on all their minds that this was no way to enter into the delights of sexual union. Erestor at last spoke what none could bear to say.

"I cannot do this to a virgin. You must take him first, Glorfindel, with as much tenderness and dignity as your heart allows."

"My heart is broken," Glorfindel choked out, tears filling his eyes. "I did not want it to be like this. I should not have gone to Greenwood, then he would not have known I live."

"It need not be harmful," soothed Elrond, wrapping an arm over the Balrog-slayer's shoulders. "He desires you and he wants to learn of these pleasures. You need not break his heart in teaching him."

"Be at peace," said Erestor. "This is not your doing; I see it now. Whether you had gone to Greenwood or not, this crisis would still have arisen for our young friend. Be glad instead, for you will ensure he is not debased in this life, whoever he is, ancient soul or new-sprung spirit."

"He is in Celebrian's garden, mellon," said Elrond. "Go to him."

TBC


	5. Chapter 5

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Five: Convergence **

He stood upon the narrow lip of stone watching the setting sun, naked skin painted with the fading glory of Anor, the gleaming disk huge and red as it dropped lower over the cloud-piercing peaks of the Echoriath, tinting them richly in violet and vermilion. The wind was in his hair and the golden strands danced, stained with ruddy light, but there was tension in him and the whirling mane seemed occupied as much in venting that stress as in playing with the balmy air. His arms were folded tight around his chest and he was still, peering at the spectacular display of colours without acknowledging it, though from Glorfindel's perspective it seemed Arien was enhancing the scene just to please Legolas, or perhaps to distract him.

The Lord of the Golden Flower certainly enjoyed the view, smiling at the length of Legolas' unbound hair, so long the trailing ends brushed across the sumptuous curves of his bottom, just as if they could not help themselves. He was astoundingly beautiful; even after all these years knowing him, it was still a revelation to behold him uncovered and Glorfindel was not unmindful of his good fortune to be granted such an uninhibited view. Yet it was more than this, so much more, and that made his heart ache with bittersweet agony. He wanted to be the only one to ever have this advantage, but Legolas had conditions and these Glorfindel would not, could not meet.

Legolas shivered faintly, enough to be noticeable, and the mighty Lord roused himself, arising from the pallet and taking with him a soft robe of nearly weightless gauze. It would do little to allay cold, but he knew the temperature was not the source of his lover's chill. From behind, he draped the fabric over the bare shoulders, pausing to press a kiss against one, hands closing about the lithe frame and carefully pulling him into a firm embrace against his chest. Legolas gave no sign he felt either contact.

"T'will be a beautiful night," whispered Glorfindel, shifting so his own nakedness touched upon that succulant rump. He was not asking for more; there was not time and they were both sated now. He just needed to feel the warmth of Legolas' body against him for there was comfort in that.

Hands ran over the velvety surface of supple arms; lips sampled the flaxen tresses and grazed on the smooth skin of throat and ears; he shuffled closer and snuggled his lax penis into the cleft of taut buttocks. Fingers feathered over the hard abdomen and its folded navel, drifted to a bare hip and then down to fondle genitals with proprietary familiarity. He was not trying to arouse Legolas but to assert a degree of ownership and mastery. Legolas responded, relaxing a little and leaning back against him. He felt the sigh that worked through him, the sound of it lost in the wind, and nuzzled against the fair cheek. He looked and caught the sharp glint of blue eyes watching him covertly.

"It is Tarnin Austa," said Legolas, voice distracted, apathetic, yet the tension in his body increased. He tugged the insubstantial garment close and released another wistful complaint upon the breeze. Dreading what must come, he said his part on cue. "Shall we venture to your house and wait upon the wall together?"

Glorfindel flinched at the woebegone and dismal tone; there was no hope in the question at all. Legolas knew he would decline but had to make the request all the same, for so his heart demanded. The Lordly warrior would like to give a new answer, not the one spoken every time the archer asked him, but could not. "Nay, that we cannot do, as well you know."

"Aye," another sigh, then: "More's the pity for that." Legolas stirred and turned in his lover's arms, letting Glorfindel see what these moments cost him.

They were of a height and he presented a bleak and joyless smile, his eyes bright with a fire fuelled by longing, love, and resentment. All of it was visible and Glorfindel did not look away from him, meeting the wild, accusing glare with his own mix of contrition, adoration, and insistent propriety. This small battle raged for a few seconds and then Legolas capitulated. Being with Glorfindel was the only thing that made such a fate bearable and he could not enforce the silent ultimatum. "I have duty anyway," he lied and kissed Glorfindel before turning aside to gather up his clothes. He walked away to the path naked and did not look back.

Glorfindel let him go, half grateful and half furious. He loved Legolas but could not tell him this, nor would he let the debased Swallow speak those words to him. It was not meet for him to associate so intimately with someone of such low morals and he had endured the censure of his peers for it over the years. Indeed, it had been made plain by the Council of Lords that to claim Legolas as his mate he would have to relinquish Lordship of his House. He could not and Legolas should not expect it of him, and so Glorfindel left the secluded rendezvous with ill-feeling, unhappy that he could not renounce the affair and purge his heart of the glorious but ill-gotten son of Duilin.

The dawn came early but instead of choirs singing hymns of joy the mountains rang with shrieks of terror and cries of rage. He did not have time even to look for Legolas and when the battle threw them together, then he realised what a fool he'd been. A more noble heart he could not hope to hold and in those hours as they fought side by side through the flaming streets, the promise was made and the bond forged. The kingdom was falling and with it all barriers between them would vanish. Melkor's victory would yield their liberation, if they survived to the next dawn.

Fate was not disposed to make it so.

In the centre of Celebrian's maze, Legolas twitched in restless discontent and a wretched moan escaped his lips.

On the pathway leading to it, Glorfindel paused and felt a great contraction wrench his heart so that he gasped aloud and clutched at his breast. The spasm passed but he stood panting for air, sweat a cloying film upon his skin, the memory so potent he thought he might collapse. He recovered himself, looking about to see if his strange spell had been witnessed. None were near and he inhaled deeply, starting forward anew.

Now Glorfindel went readily from the posh appeal of the seneschal's well-disguised and much fabled apartment below the cellars, but perhaps not for the reasons his friends suspected. Yes, he found Thranduilion attractive, fair as Legolas of the Tree had ever been if not more. There was likewise no doubt that the young warrior was as admirable in skill, a superior archer and just as fearless, and reckless, as his ancient namesake. Yet, there were glaring differences also, and these were not just barriers to embracing the notion that he was re-born, they were almost answers to prayers and if anything this was more daunting.

In so many ways, Thranduilion's life was opposite to that of his counterpart from Gondolin, for here was Legolas the honoured and much-loved son of a noble and mighty King of Elves, a warrior respected and admired for his skill and courage, a youth for whom the allure of his face and form was nothing, a thing he accounted not, never seeing himself in this light until just recently and the revelation was not a source of exhilaration but of misery and confusion. He was still an unstained, unblemished innocent. Had not Glorfindel wished all of that for Legolas?

There he was brought up short, realising with a sinking heart that these were qualities he wanted in Legolas to satisfy his own ideas of what was best. Had all those conditions been met in Gondolin, he would have publicly and proudly bound Legolas to him. In truth, he loved him but was ashamed of him. Never had he imagined the fateful four-way orgy was anything but the very illicit debauchery Legolas desired. Why was that? He had believed Ambarónë's contemptuous words, thinking one brother must know the other, and Legolas himself never denied it. Upon death his inner eye opened and the truth was revealed.

Oh, the anger he felt then was almost too much for Estë to assuage and it had required the solemn vow of Manwë that Legolas would be avenged to mollify the Balrog-slayer. From Námo he learned that Legolas would soon be in Mandos, too. That had been as painful to hear as it was joyful, for how could Glorfindel want his beloved to endure death by violence such as he had known?

When it came to pass, he was there to ease the fearful disorientation pursuant to being disembodied. The meeting of spirit is not like the meeting of persons; there are no barriers between one's thoughts and what Glorfindel knew Legolas learned. It proved too much and the troubled faer fled, seeking the soul of his mother, but she was not in Mandos. Nienna had to sequester him deep in her brother's Halls for time uncountable.

Even more, they were all there: Ambarónë, Malantur, Duilin, and Egalmoth. Valour at the last earned Egalmoth his freedom first; Duilin was content to stay and attempt to help his son, no matter the time required; Malantur was reduced to insanity, trying to hide from Manwë and Námo; Ambarónë was quietly repentant, seeing his brother's torment and his father's grief, and accepted his sentence of captivity without dissent. Teetering between madness and despair, Legolas would not come near them and refused to acknowledge what had come to pass to bring them together in the domain of the dead. Until he could face all of that and own it, Glorfindel knew Legolas would not begin to recover.

Leaving Mandos before him was the single most difficult action Glorfindel ever accomplished though he had done so willingly at the behest of Manw. Legolas was not ready to be released and he accepted Nienna's decision that Duilin must be the one to guide his son back to reason and remembrance. Even so, sailing from Aman without Legolas had almost broken Glorfindel's heart anew. All his pleas were ignored, all his questions remained unanswered, and not even the wizards could guess when he would be re-born. Learning of Legolas Thranduilion, he could not help but hope, could think of nothing save to see him. It never entered his mind to do him harm. Erestor's unjust charges rankled and the Balrog-slayer's hands curled into fists. The seneschal had spent too many years with kin-slayers and had no heart left, he thought.

Even so, there was no longer room to deny that his unexpected visit had indeed resulted in this horrendous turmoil the prince suffered. Glorfindel had simply believed with all his being that this was his Legolas and so he went. How could it be otherwise? Why would such an ellon be born just now when Glorfindel had but barely returned from Aman, re-born anew just scant years prior to the sailing? Why would these woodland folk give their son such a name in such an ancient dialect? And why, in Manwë's name, would this young warrior wear upon his quiver the image of a swallow in flight?

He went, defying the ban of Thranduil to see the prince. Brazenly he introduced himself and at once realised that while his companion was awed and impressed by meeting so famous a legend, there was absolutely no recognition in those wide blue eyes. His memories were either concealed or this was not his Legolas at all. Unwilling to face either possibility, Glorfindel had left the next morning only to be followed soon after by the beleaguered ellon. It could not be undone and now his high and hopeful heart had brought them to this: Thranduilion must be subjected to that horrid scene of seduction and the fault lay full upon the Balrog-slayer's conscience.

How could he go to him and tell him what must be done? How he could plead this as his cause for wanting to be his first? He did want that; just the memory of Legolas' scent when aroused was enough to make him hard. The fleeting touch he'd stolen only fanned that flame higher. Would not the fair prince become horrified and offended to be propositioned under such conditions? Glorfindel could see it no other way, for they were not even friends much less lovers. Beyond that, he felt deep in his soul that it was wrong to take him in such a manner. This 'cure' went counter to all his avowed love, all his fervent pleas for the chance to adore Legolas and secure a genuine commitment before suggesting physical intimacy.

The fault was not all his own, these strange permutations in the Music, but he could not comprehend why Vairë, Weaver of Fate, would make these two elves mirror one another like the planes of a crystal grown of the same bit of rock. It was a puzzle he was not equipped to solve, but he felt used, angered that his true heart, his best heart, his pure heart that wanted Legolas out of genuine love, had been made into a weapon to hurt Greenwood's prince.

Glorfindel's pace was slow as his thoughts wandered amid the memories of two life-times, but the distance was not great and he reached the delicate gate to Celebrian's Maze in due time. He halted and thought about all that was behind him and what might be before him. No matter the counsel of his Lords, the Balrog-slayer decided that what was best for Legolas was to get him home to his people. This unholy scheme could not be good for him, whichever Legolas he turned out to be. If cold-hearted Erestor quailed to do this thing, noble Glorfindel of the Golden Flower assuredly could not. That decided, he entered in and made his way to the centre. His heart leaped with a silent cry of joy, his breath suspended, and his thoughts scattered in the breeze, for there lay the golden prince asleep in restful ease.

A soft white robe adorned him, the wrap tied loosely so that a tantalising strip of creamy skin was visible all the way to his genitals, which were covered enough to keep them from being on full display but not enough to make a voyeur avid for more. Legolas rested on his back, one hand atop his chest and the other hanging lazy and limp off the edge, the tips of the deadly fingers just touching the lush green grass. All his golden hair spilled over the pillow upon which his head reposed and his bright eyes watched the drifting clouds behind lids half-drawn, oblivious to any stimulus, internal or external. Soft rose-pink lips remained slightly parted in a faint half-smile as if he'd fallen into slumber after being told he was very much loved, very safe, and ever would he be.

So he would, too, if Glorfindel could manage it. He had not the heart to wake him, not even to urge him to pack his things and race from the valley, which was his intent. Instead he stood for several minutes just watching him sleep, feeling a warmth in his heart that was not all for the old love he'd left behind. He acknowledged a longing for this elf that surpassed his name and history, this woodland fey so new and fair and strong, and caught himself envying whoever won his heart.

Is that not what he deserved, to be wooed and won? Aye, and Legolas of Gondolin had not cause to harm his namesake; Erestor must be wrong. Glorfindel approached on noiseless feet and sat himself on the ground beside the reclining elf. Gently he ran his fingers through the long sweep of the glorious mane, smiling when Legolas sighed and turned half on his side, tucking a hand under his cheek. The motion bared a bit of shoulder and Glorfindel bent to press his lips against the skin, inhaling the scent of the slumbering Wood Elf, trying to compare it to his memories, and found he could distinguish no difference.

"How can I not fall in love with you?" he whispered, not fully realising he spoke aloud at all. "We both deserve that chance, Legolas. I care not if you never remember those painful days of your youth or whether those days were ever yours to recall. I can only pray you will find me worthy and return my love."

Softly he began to sing an ancient song from the ancient kingdom, a simple theme of love and constancy, permitting his hands to carefully soothe a loving caress down the long slender back, pleased that his attentions did not waken Legolas but instead seemed to send him deeper still. Glorfindel had no way of knowing that his presence and these caring actions invoked an unexpected and undetected element into the serene environment.

The night was bright with stars, more than he had ever seen before, or so it seemed to him, and he dawdled along beside his Nana, wondering why she must hurry them so. Here was a fair place to pass the hours of Ithil's reign and since they had never done such a thing he was eager for the adventure. A firefly winked off and on and he laughed, watching as a whole cloud of them arose from the grass at the approach of their feet. No matter how lightly they walked, he thought, the earth felt them and made the way easy. His mother looked down, smiling, but her eyes held fear and worry and sadness and Legolas stopped smiling.

"The night is beautiful, Nana," he said, "yet you are crying." It was so, silver tears slipped over her cheeks in a ponderous flood. "Has something happened?" This was the way for them to say to each other that she and his Adar had argued again.

"Yes," she said, voice stricken and filled with both anger and hurt. "We are not wanted in the House of the Swallow, Legolas. I have explained this to you before."

"I know, but never have we gone from our home into the night before," he said, curious and concerned but not frightened. He had no cause to fear as long as she was beside him and besides, he was a warrior now, already a full three months into his training. There were no dangers in Gondolin, but if there were any, he could defend her. "And you have always said that it matters little what they want, for I was born a Swallow and this cannot be changed."

"You are not a Swallow and that place is not our home," she spat, the fury in her words startling him so that he faltered on the way. Repenting, she tried to smile and drew him close, crouching down on her heels. "Do not fret; my people will welcome us and we will live in the land of Doriath where I was born and grew to be a girl."

"How can you say I am not a Swallow?" he demanded, feeling an uneasy fear for the first time. Many of his contemporaries said this and his brother called him and his mother vile names because of it. Always his Nana had refuted their taunts and bade him hold his head up for he was Duilin's son.

"I say so because the Swallows have renounced us," she continued, wishing she had not given in to her sorrow and anger, but the time for sparing Legolas this was past. Better to take him away and return to the lands of her people where none would scorn him. She could easily say his father perished; none would know different. "We will go to Doriath and live under the protection of Thingol."

"Oh, the King who lives under the ground and has to wife a Spirit in elvish form?" Legolas nodded. He knew this tale well. It would indeed be a thing to see this Lady of great power who had a hand in the making of the world, but he did not want to forsake the fantasy his mother had for all his life described. "Yet here was I born and here is my Adar's House. Here I will become a great warrior and Adar will come to see that I "

"Nay, Legolas!" She cut him off brusquely with a sharp shake that jolted the child's shoulders. "Understand this now: your father will not ever name you a son of his House. You and I are people of the Tree, ionen. Forget the haughty Swallows!"

"Forget?" Legolas was shocked. "How can I forget all I have ever known, Nana?"

"Remember, then, as I do the place of my childhood, but recall that you are still a child and I must do as I feel best for you, for so much do I love you. You will not be unhappy to journey with me to this great Kingdom." She smiled brighter and hoped to engage his adventurous spirit. "I was your age when my Adar decided to journey with Angrod son of Eärwen to share the tidings of Thingol with the Noldorin folk, for my Ada wanted to see these new and mighty people who had come out of Aman leading the way for Ithil and Anor.

"My Nana would not leave him and so we all joined the caravan. That is how our people came in time to Nevrast and met our kinfolk there, who had nought but high praise for Turgon and named him King. Thus we came here when Gondolin was made ready. This is our history, Legolas, and you are part of it. In Doriath you will realise these dreams of glory which fill your soul and I will be glad to see you happy there beneath the trees of Neldoreth."

"We are really going to leave here?" he demanded, at last comprehending the cause of their flight. "How will we find the way? How will we get past the guarded gate, for none may leave?"

"That is why we are scurrying away beneath the silver stars like field mice racing for their burrow ere the hawk spies them," she grinned. "How easy it will be for us to slip by the guards, for are we not folk of the Tree? None excel in wood-craft and stealth as do our people. In the same way we will find our way, for I know how to navigate by Varda's lights and will teach this to you, too. A grand adventure awaits! I know I can depend on you to defend us and provide food along the way."

"Of course," Legolas puffed up proudly, smiling to see how his mother trusted him and respected his worth. He was not sad to leave behind his half-brother and the others who scorned him, but leaving Aldarion was hard for he loved his uncle and wondered why he was not with them now.

Still, he knew not to say anything for his mother was crying again. Instead he sang her a song made up on the spot about guessing the names of the stars overhead and wondering if Ithil had to visit each one and introduce himself. In this way the hours passed, but he was still young and growing and the point was reached when he could not keep walking. Then mother and son curled up in a soft bed of grass and he slept while she watched over him.

All the next day and the night following it they kept on and though he couldn't guess it Aldarion was aiding their escape, deflecting notice of his sister's absence. This worked until the third day when Duilin, regretting his harsh words to his concubine, sought her in her quarters by the kitchens. The fight between them had been about the boy. She would not lie with him unless he provided a promise of honour for their son, and he had unjustly said the child had honour enough just to be allowed to train for the guard. Now he wished he had not spoken this way and came to make amends only to find her gone. Aldarion refused to admit what was happening but the mighty Lord figured it out. Enraged, he gathered his most trusted captains and a handful of guards and pursued her over Tumladen.

Dawn of the fourth day came as the thunder of his horse's hooves wakened Legolas. He looked into his mother's eyes and saw there such a look of hopeless horror that he became frightened. What did she think was going to happen? This was Duilin or one of his captains and at worst they would be taken back into the household. It need not be a bad thing, yet her eyes belied his hopes even before she suddenly grabbed him up off his feet and raced for the gates, the guards there watching all this in amazed curiosity. She came close enough to feel the cool draft of the air flowing out of the underground passage, but Lord Duilin set his charger between her and the entrance and there they all halted.

"Stand aside!" she cried in desperation. "It cannot matter to you what happens to us now. I will go and take my son to my people where he will not be debased and defamed."

"That is madness," snapped Duilin, red-faced in shame that he had pushed her to this extreme. Yet he had an audience and he was mindful of what promises he would say before witnesses. "You consign yourself and the child to death if you venture alone from here. Come, return to the house and all we be as it has been."

"I will not return!" she yelled at him fiercely, eyes wild and heart frantic. "He does not deserve your peoples' scorn and derision and I will give him a better life elsewhere."

"He will not be scorned," said Duilin quietly, glancing at the wide-eyed ellon clinging to his mother. "Do not take away my son from me, Curoniel." He held out his hand to her.

"You have not been pleased to name him your son before," she said, "anymore than you have been pleased to grant me some small place of dignity in your house. I am punished for the whims of a foolish girl's heart-stirrings and now Legolas suffers, too. In Doriath we will be treated as citizens not slaves."

The guards of the gate muttered to hear this charge and Duilin's captain made an abrupt noise of disgust, turning away as he shook his head, saying: "Dignity was yours to cast aside; do not blame others for your failings."

"Silence!" shouted Legolas and forced free from his mother's arms. Boldly he marched to confront the captain and glared in fury. "It is not for you to assign blame to my Nana."

Now Duilin chuckled and a smile of admiration was on his face. "Well said, filigod (little bird). Come over here to me now." Then Duilin held out his hand to his son and met the suspicious but hopeful eyes, the colour just like Curoniel's, and Duilin thought he would raise the child as his own after all.

"Nay! Legolas, come away from them," Curoniel cried and moved to snatch back her son, but then Duilin's guard blocked her way. "Legolas!" she called for him and ready was he to answer, drawing a dagger and charging to her defence, but his father reached out and caught him up, grinning at the strong spirit of his second son.

"Let me down! Let me down, Hîren Adar!" he shouted and struggled but a small elf child is no match for a mighty Lord of the Sindar.

"Be still, filigod, none shall harm your Nana," promised Duilin. "You will make a fine warrior for our House, Legolas, though that name is not to my liking. How shall we call you?"

"I am Legolas and that is how I shall be called," retorted the child, but he stopped struggling and looked into the stern but comely face of his father. Never had Duilin so much as held him and this was the one thing he had longed for in secret, keeping this wish hidden in his heart where even his Nana could not see it: that Duilin would love him and treat him as other children's fathers were wont to do, cherishing their offspring in pride and joy. "Yet, it is not unusual for a child to have both a mother-name and a father-name," he offered and flickered his eyes to his mother.

Curoniel was staring, mouth agape and eyes wide at this scene. Duilin seemed to want their child and she felt hope begin to blossom in her heart. She let this small spark be revealed to Legolas and he smiled broadly at her.

"So it is," Duilin was saying. "If I set you on your feet, will you refrain from attacking my loyal guards?"

"Will your loyal guards stand back from my Nana?" demanded Legolas. The stalwart warriors chuckled at the lordly command and at once obeyed, catching Duilin's eye and the silent order within it.

"You see they have already hearkened to your words," said Duilin and put Legolas down. They stood, father and son gazing upon one another and for the first time seeing the likenesses there. The great lord was not displeased and turned again to his concubine. "A fine son you have given me, Curoniel. I will take Legolas into my House and he will prosper. Yet, what is between us is another thing and that cannot be made legitimate, for I am wedded already and my Lady would not forgive any recognition of her rival. Mayhap it is best for you to return to the House of the Tree."

"No!" shouted Legolas. "This is my Nana and she is not to be sent away to Lord Galdor's House!" His boldness was not cute this time and Duilin cuffed him sharply so that he gasped aloud, never having been struck before.

"You will not speak out against the word of your Adar and Lord," intoned Duilin. "If you would be a Swallow, then fealty to me you must swear beyond the love a child naturally bears his sire. That is what is required of you. Now you must choose: your mother's people or your father's; there is no other way."

It was too much for a child so young and Legolas was not prepared to make such a choice. Wildly he looked to his mother for her help and found her downcast in sorrow. Then she raised her head and pushed her way past the guards and came to him, crouching down on her heels before him. Tenderly she took him to her heart and held him long, relishing the strength of the love in her son's lean arms. He wrapped them even tighter around her neck and squeezed, and she did not permit herself to weep.

Was this not what she desired for her child? Had she not promised him this from the moment he came to realise the difference between his estate and his brother's? Curoniel did what many mother's have done and made a choice she thought would better Legolas' life though it would forever remove him from her side. She let go, peeling the clasping arms from her, and smiled into her son's troubled eyes.

"Your father is right, Legolas. How can you shame me that way, defying him? Everyone will think I did not teach you any manners," she said, smiling through the remonstrance.

"But, Nana, I do not want you to go away," complained Legolas.

"I know, but you are not a little babe anymore and no more do you need your Nana to watch over you, for here is your father come to claim you," she explained, appealing to his pride and that secret wish he thought she did not know.

"Will I be able to come and see you?" he asked, trying hard to keep the tears from his voice, for the warriors were watching and his father peered down upon him in grim evaluation.

"After a time," she assured. "I will stay away and let you learn the ways of your father's House. Once you are established, then you will visit me or I will visit you, as your Adar ordains." Curoniel sent Duilin a swift glance and saw there what she already knew: he would not let her come back to his house again and would not make it easy for Legolas to come to her. He was embarrassed of the feelings he had held in his heart for her, as they were nothing to do with his heart at all, and he would fain forget the affair. It hurt her, but her love for Legolas was enough to make it easy to bear that rejection. Her son would grow to be a Lord of the House and she would be consoled with that knowledge.

"Then it is decided," announced Duilin and his tone let it be known that all present were to bear witness to this moment. "Legolas will become a part of my household and grow to adulthood therein. Take leave of your naneth, Duilinion, and return with the guard to my lands. I will speak with your mother and follow soon behind."

"I will make you proud of me," Legolas choked out, not bothering to hide his tears anymore for now he realised he might not see his Nana again for many days. He hugged her hard.

"I am already proud of you," Curoniel whispered, squeezing back. "Do not forget you are a son of the Tree also, my little Swallow." Then she let him go and stood up, backing away as he turned and moved away with the guards.

Lightly one tossed him up upon the saddle of his stallion and ere he mounted behind, Legolas raised his hand in salute. "Namarië, Nana," he called and then the warrior leaped upon the charger and they were thundering across the plain.

"Namarië, nín Tuilinn Dithen," she cried loudly that he might remember her love for him and come to understand what she had done this day, for he would never see her again. Curoniel had no words for Duilin. She fled past the guards of the gate into the hidden tunnel and came never again to Gondolin.

With an abrupt start Legolas came awake, so shaken he nearly fell off the bench and clutched at Glorfindel seated there beside him. In silent wonder he gazed at the legendary warrior, surprised to find him there but glad he was not alone, for the dream had been disturbing.

"Such a vision I have had," he remarked to the noble Vanyarin Lord and sat up, drawing his robe more modestly over his body.

"Oh?" Glorfindel was afraid to ask what it entailed.

"Aye. I watched a child part from his mother, a child remarkably like myself," said Legolas, "but it was not myself, for I was observing all that happened from a point beyond them all, somehow."

"That is remarkable, indeed," opined Glorfindel, for of course he knew all there was to know of Legolas Duilinion's history. In spite of himself, his heart leaped with hopeful anticipation. Perhaps the memories were returning now and soon all would be right between them. He smiled.

"Yes, but that is not what is so strange," added Legolas, peering at him closely, suddenly wondering what he was doing here when Elrond had promised none would know to find him in the centre of the maze.

"At the last moment, I became that child and the child became me. I looked into her face and knew her; she was my mother. She wept when I left her and I wept to leave her, though I did not know then it would be for such a long time." He paused and thought about what he had seen, reliving those last moments, his last view of her, the sound of her voice calling out to him as he was borne away swift over the fields. "The odd thing is that I truly do know her. She lives in Greenwood and she is not my mother, but she is my mother's great-grandmother. Her name is Curoniel and she it was who gave me my name."

Glorfindel stared in dumbstruck silence, unable to coherently analyse what he'd just been told. Here was the link, but it was so crooked and cramped he could not yet see how it brought the two warriors of the same name together. He frowned and shook his head, a faint shrug lifting his shoulders. "She lives in Greenwood?" he managed to say.

"She does," nodded Legolas and then he sighed. "Lord Glorfindel, I feel strongly that you know something about all this. Before you came to Greenwood so suddenly, none of these visions troubled my days. Now I cannot get free of them and all of them are tragic in some sense or other. Tell me what you have to do with the child of Curoniel."

"I?" Glorfindel faltered. Should he speak? Should he reveal his heart and what he believed to be true? Nay, for now he was more confused than ever. Still, here was at last a means to broach the unsavoury topic of the cure and encourage Legolas to flee back home. They were hard words to say and he stalled, hoping to find the mettle to do so. "Nay, I am no Lord here, Legolas; do not call me by title."

Legolas sighed in irritation; he could not understand this brand of modesty. In his homeland, one was rightly proud of one's lineage. "As you will, yet title or no you cannot deny your place in history. Everyone still thinks of you as a Lord and so then you are one. Now will you not answer?"

"Is that important to you?" Glorfindel asked abruptly, for he had not considered that he might now be beneath a prince of the forest.

"That you do not reply to what I ask? Aye, it is important and I wonder at the stubbornness of elven Lords in Imladris, for Lord Elrond failed to be direct as well," complained Legolas.

"Oh." Glorfindel stared into the scowling countenance, his eyes blank and bereft, and then he laughed. "Ai! I will answer you at once, then, and remove at least one quandary. You know there was an elf in Gondolin with your name," he began.

"Of course, everyone knows at least part of the story. I know all of it, for I was named for him and he was Curoniel's son, thus he and I are distant cousins. He died saving the life of the child Eärendil in a battle against orcs on the refugees' long peregrination to Sirion," explained Legolas. "Now, tell me your connection to my ancestor."

"What can I say to you?" Glorfindel stood and stared down at the beautiful elf, heart aching with both fear and longing, terrified to speak the words his soul would have him say, for what if he should be rebuffed? He could not stop those words and his reason but barely managed to alter them enough to spare him should the worst prove true. "I loved him. I love him still."

"You thought I was him, re-born," Legolas nodded, seeing the great turmoil in the Balrog-slayer's eyes. Then he rose and laid his hand upon Glorfindel's shoulder. "We have both been suffering, then. I think it is time we went to see Lord Elrond. This enigma must be unravelled." He moved to the gazebo and dressed himself and again he was unsettled that Glorfindel knew how to find him. Emerging, he passed his gaze anew over the renowned warrior, for prior to the strange dreams he had indulged a most thrilling illusion of the two of them together. "What are you doing here, Lord Glorfindel?"

"I?" Again Glorfindel was unwilling to admit the truth and his face grew warm thinking of what he had been sent here to do. Unbidden his eye left the fair visage and travelled over the lanky, long-legged prince, recalling the scent of him aroused, and barely managed to control his body's reaction. He cleared his throat and met the blue eyes again, startled by the heat in them. "I," he said again, "was sent here by Lords Elrond and Erestor to fulfil a request."

"Which obviously involves me," Legolas prompted. "The task must have been onerous to prevent your speaking it."

"Nay, not so, yet I was not willing to undertake their orders," explained Glorfindel. How could he just say all this? He barely knew this elf. "It is not a thing to be so ordered, not for me at least and not like this. It is something we must take up with the Lords and as they are awaiting our arrival, we should go."

"Indeed?" Legolas was intrigued, for Glorfindel was more uncomfortable than he had ever seen him before. Admittedly, he had not seen him often, but this was a far different demeanour than the highly riled warrior who'd burst Elrond's door to ensure his safety.

"Yes. Please, I know this is all very mysterious and secretive, but I cannot tell you here in this place what the cure for your torment entails. Hear Elrond out and if you agree with his treatment then I will not be displeased to be the one who to aid you." The words stumbled out awkwardly and Glorfindel was grateful Legolas did not demand to know at once what he was talking about. Instead, Legolas watched him for a few minutes, holding his gaze and searching it, not pleased to be blocked from seeing deeper but not angry either. At last he simply nodded and led the way out.

TBC

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	6. Chapter 6

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Six: Resolution**

"Manacles?"

"Attached. The felt lining is a nice touch."

"Did you test the lock?"

"Of course and it operates as smoothly as every other well-oiled piece of equipment in here."

Erestor sent his cousin a smugly appreciative leer over the risqué remark. "Shackles?"

"Ready, but they were not in the vision. He was compliant and submissive."

"This is not a dream and they will definitely be needed," Erestor intoned, losing his wolfish grin instantly. He tested the strength of the chains at the end of the little mithril cock ring by gripping it with both hands, bracing his feet against the platform, and tugging with all his might. They held. "Hand me the nipple clamps now."

"These?" Elrond raised a wickedly lovely set of pincers, the serrated ends decorated with tiny rubies. He liked the sparkling quality of the clinking jangle as the links struck one another.

"No, no, those are useless. He's going to struggle, Elrond; give me the other set."

"Struggle? Erestor, we cannot do this without his consent." Elrond was not pleased with Erestor's notion of how things were going to be once the trance took effect.

"I never said anything else, but if this isn't Legolas of Gondolin, it is going to be a frightening experience, no matter how exciting his dreams have been. We must be prepared for that and be ready to help him master that fear."

"Then, let us use the decorative ones instead and let them come free if he struggles," insisted Elrond and the mental image of Legolas' nipples popping out of the clamps, red and raw, made his pulse gallop.

"Nay, that is not the point. In the dream he thrashes wildly and cannot get loose. So it must be in reality." Erestor came and took up the ones he wanted. "They are not as pretty but neither will they break away. See? The ends pierce right through and hold fast." The seneschal proudly demonstrated how the small barb would be applied, smiling at his kinsman's mildly concerned but nonetheless intrigued expression. "He will not bleed much," Erestor answered the unspoken question.

"I know that," snapped Elrond, frowning.

It had been a while since he'd visited this part of Erestor's domain, but surely it had not been that long ago. Well, perhaps it had, at that. Right after Celebrian's departure, he'd become a regular visitor, but as the centuries passed his interests had turned elsewhere, or his duties had increased, or his desires had dulled. All three, more likely, he thought. His cousin was watching him, sympathetically, a light in his eyes that illuminated similar misgivings over the procedure they were preparing to undertake. Elrond attempted a bolstering smile and turned to survey the place.

The room was decadently luxurious and beguilingly threatening, for how often does one find a torture chamber appointed in butter-soft leather, plush velvets, glowing gems, and dauntingly sharp and glinting steel? The platform was newly made but as elegant of design as any other furnishing found in Erestor's abode, with squat, turned legs and rich, cushy upholstery. Who he had commissioned to build it, and who had so swiftly complied, was one of the many secrets the cagey seneschal would never reveal. If rumours got abroad that a particular craftsman was favoured by Erestor, then the rest of the valley's carpenters would suffer from loss of business.

Elrond was more impressed by the fact that it was there, ready and waiting. Obviously, his cousin's insight had not failed him and the lore-master guessed he'd ordered its construction soon after learning about Glorfindel's ill-chosen excursion to Rhovanian. His seneschal almost always had the answers floating around in that eclectic mixture of seemingly random observations he documented continuously and sooner or later his mental environment would mature and suddenly the solution would gel. It had never failed to do so and thus Elrond relied on Erestor's judgement in this case, too.

The platform was new, but other features of the room were not and Elrond passed inspection over the place to see what else had changed since his last visit here.

The bench was in its accustomed place, a huge phallus of gleaming mithril attached, the stirrups and their ankle cuffs properly positioned to ensure its correct insertion, the leather straps shining with that soft sheen derived from good care and cleaning, the padded surface indented by the pressure of unknown numbers of bodies confined upon it. The impaling rack was there, too, but had been discreetly moved to the far corner where the shadows made its menacing shape and size less threatening. Mayhap it was just for coats or something, but its iron rings, the set of leather whips displayed upon it, and the hinged middle belied any neutral interpretation of its purpose.

There was a lovely cabinet of mahogany painted with invitingly exotic scenes upon its doors, an innocuous article in which scrolls might be stored, save for the fact that it was designed to imprison a person in such a way that once shut in he could not move or shift position. And there was a series of narrow, open slots across the top through which one might poor hot wax or insert knives, all while standing at the end wherein was drilled out a nicely sized hole through which to fuck the captive crammed inside it, whose writhing agony was sure to enhance the experience. Alternately, the prisoner could be made to face this hole and be forced to suck whatever came through the opening, but it was rarely used without a mouth restraint due to the inevitable and painful application of incisors that occurred otherwise.

Beneath a thick wool rug was a pit, narrow, nasty, and dark. A flick of a switch, located just where the victim's foot must touch as soon as he was lowered in, released an evenly spaced array of blades from top to bottom, all of such precise length that just breathing wounded the unfortunate soul. Should the victim venture to lift his foot off that lever, the blades did not retract but instead grew longer as new ones emerged from the floor.

That was a place purely of punishment and Elrond had never asked how Erestor used it. Perhaps the captive was so glad to be released he would do anything asked to prevent being put back in. The Lord of Imladris really did not want to know, finding this level of bondage exceeded his tolerance for agony and terror. There were other things, more standard methods of restraint and discipline: a fur-lined stock that held its victim bent over at a particularly vulnerable angle, various paddles, canes, and scourges, lots of iron rings and chains were secured to the walls and floor so to make using them easy on the punisher and brutal for the punished, and a veritable pharmacy of cures and salves as well as aphrodisiacs and mind altering concoctions lined the narrow shelves on the far end of the room.

A small shudder passed through Elrond, not entirely spawned by aversion to these various means and methods of rapturous excruciation.

The examination halted as his vision came to rest on the bed. This was also a new addition, for Erestor's tastes did not in general include catering to the softer side of intercourse in this place. He had a softer side, this Elrond knew for a fact, and was far less likely to actually use this torture room without also planning to treat his captive to the exact opposite in the sumptuous guest apartment located nearby in the subterranean suite. That set of elegantly appointed rooms did not include Erestor's personal sleeping chamber; a realm few indeed were permitted to enter. Erestor came to stand beside him.

"Is it as you saw it?" he asked.

"Very much so, save the bed is nicer and the place is clean and well-lighted. If Legolas of Gondolin is here in Imladris, re-born or otherwise, he must recognise this place, or at least what it represents," answered Elrond. He sighed heavily. "I wish there was some other means available."

"Aye."

There was enough doubt in the single syllable to make Elrond pause. Erestor stood in abstracted uneasiness, a distant look in his eyes as though he could see on the other side of time, not clearly and not completely, but as if he glimpsed the consequences of a given decision or act, the events attributed to it expanding out from it as ripples in a pond. Truly, circumstances that appeared as fate or chance to others were to him like rings in a rain puddle, overlapping one another, cancelling or enhancing each other as the storm spent itself. While many of the changes were impossible to follow, Erestor perceived more than others. Knowing this, Elrond watched him warily, waiting for more.

"I don't know," ventured his cousin carefully, "if it is such a good idea after all."

"Erestor, this test of Legolas' spirit is necessary, though the method is unpalatable. You said so yourself. Is there another way you have not mentioned?"

"Nay, unfortunately, I see no other option. I am talking about the decision to just throw Glorfindel at Legolas. The Wood Elf has no idea what is going on and may not be pleased in the least. Additionally, Glorfindel has issues and may not be able to contain them. Is it fair for Legolas' first experience to be so fraught with expectations he cannot even imagine much less meet?"

"Aye, but we cannot permit this to be his introduction to sex," Elrond motioned to the platform in supreme distaste. "What if he is reborn? Legolas of the Tree loves Glorfindel of the Golden Flower. Is it not best for him to lose his virginity to the one he loves? Surely, they both imagined that in all those long years in Gondolin; how different everything might have been had the two of them become mates."

"True, but if he isn't reborn, then Legolas of Greenwood must yield to someone he doesn't even know."

"He does not know him but he is definitely attracted to him."

"He was attracted to me, too."

"Was he or was that Legolas Duilinion?"

"Nae! Who can know? That is what we hope to learn," Erestor threw up his hands and stalked to the bed, adjusting the pillows and the simple cotton coverlet he'd provided.

"I garnered his notice also," confided Elrond and boldly met his kinsman's challenging eye. "I thought at the time it was me he wanted, but now I believe it was just the residual lust from the nightmare."

"You turned him down, too," smiled Erestor, returning to clasp Elrond's arm in warm camaraderie.

"I did."

"What gallant ellyn we are, cousin, yet again I worry if our noble attitudes have been in error. Legolas needs a compassionate and skillful lover for his first time, someone who will teach him what he needs to know without demanding he give over his heart in exchange. The job requires a strong lover who will shore up his confidence and show him that pleasure need not be the catalyst for a life-time of sorrow. It is just sex, after all."

"You don't believe that," scoffed Elrond. "You know the importance of this initial coupling better than most, muindoren. The first and the last, these are the loves that remain in the heart for eternity. All in between are just sex, perhaps."

"Neither do you believe that," countered Erestor. "I know you remain close to anyone who has been your partner and those friendships are important to you. Is that not love also?"

They did not speak for there was no need, each being in agreement on the subject after all, and again a period of quiet introspection spread between the molecules and the motes. Each one's mind journeyed inexorably to the maze and the activity taking place there, for neither doubted the Balrog-slayer would do his duty.

It was too late now to worry about the consequences but they rose up to taunt them nonetheless. What if Glorfindel fell into old habits and treated Thranduilion like the morally corrupt Duilinion? Irrevocable harm might result and the King of Greenwood would certainly not be lenient and forgiving of any of them, especially having rousted Glorfindel from his woods not two months ago. Even if the re-born warrior was the soul of patience and tenderness, his expectations might intrude and demand more from Legolas than he could give. Rejection, sorrow, and grieving sickness could send their friend back to Mandos. Then again, if Duilinion's un-housed spirit was wandering free, what greater temptation could there be to try and steal Thranduilion's body? Elrond believed Celebrian's magic would prevent successful possession, but there was no way to know.

Erestor stirred, sighing, and set his hands on his hips in discontented agitation. "We should decide now who is to play what role," he said. "Once Legolas is in the trance events may happen rather precipitously."

"What is there to decide?" shrugged Elrond. "Glorfindel is Glorfindel; I shall be Egalmoth, and you shall play Malantur's part."

"Oh, it's decided, is it?" demanded Erestor, insulted. "Is this your decree as Lord of the Land?"

"What? No, it is just what makes the most sense."

"Makes sense? How did you derive that conclusion? I am the noble scion of one of the oldest and most powerful Houses of the Noldor," he huffed, arms crossing over his chest as he drew himself up tall in rigid affront. "Celebrimbror is my great-grandfather, as well you know."

"Which fact makes you the great-great-grandson of one of the worst of the Feänorian Princes," Elrond reminded him. "Curufin was party to Celegorm's abduction of Luthien and tried to kill her when their plots were foiled."

"Be that as it may, Elrond," Erestor's cheeks flamed dark carmine for a few seconds, for the brothers' intentions for Luthien were far from honourable, "while I am used to inspiring a sense of dread and awe, I am not pleased to be cast as a vile rapist." Then he gave a sudden start, surprise plain in his arched brows and wide eyes. "They are coming."

"Erestor! Using far-sight to spy on such a moment is completely unethical!" fumed Elrond, unable to squelch a spike of jealousy over his cousin's gift of clairvoyance.

"No!" the seneschal tried to glare, but could not suppress a snicker. "Not in that manner. I mean they are approaching the Lair together on foot. Let us go out to meet them."

They scarcely had time to shut the door on the intimidating room before the couple rushed in from the hallway, Legolas unable to hide his amaze at the incongruity of the sinister approach and the plush destination. His eyes swept the place and alighted on the seneschal; the appraising stare he met made him blush, recalling the rash manner in which he'd propositioned the mysterious Lord. At once his confidence deserted him and all the assertive phrases he'd conjured vanished from his brain, leaving him once more the very young son of Thranduil in the presence of three very ancient and legendary people.

Glorfindel was not so hampered. "Before anything unpleasantly embarrassing is asked, I did not complete the errand upon which you sent me. Truthfully, such a thing is unconscionable and almost as bad as what you propose for Legolas' relief from the phantasms," he announced gruffly, shooting Legolas a sidelong look as he spoke. As expected, the prince's eyes popped wide.

"You know about that?" he demanded, face verily the colour of the setting sun. Then he turned in accusing fury upon Elrond. "How could you tell him those things? I revealed that in confidence!"

"Now, Legolas, in the first place I did not share any of the details with Glorfindel, only explained that his interference in your life produced the nightmares troubling you. Secondly, you only insisted I not tell you Adar," Elrond justified his actions, for of course he had given Erestor a full account, a fact which had not as yet dawned on the young prince of Greenwood.

"I see," Legolas scowled, unable to refute this, and wondered why he had not insisted on complete privacy. He had trusted Elrond and while this unexpected disclosure was upsetting, he still did. He breathed out a short snort through his nose, glancing once more at Erestor who was studiously not watching him. Realisation dawned and his heart sank, all his secrets were laid bare. "Aira Aldaron (Holy Oromë)," he muttered, "I need to sit down."

He did so and thus failed to notice the violent start his mild expletive gave Glorfindel, for of course he could not guess this was a phrase his namesake was wont to use. "It would be best, I think, if you explained things to me, Lord Elrond. Lord Glorfindel is under the impression that I am his long-lost love re-born and I may as well admit that Legolas of the Tree was a hero for me when I was a child. Alatamillë (Great-mother) was ever pleased to tell me of him and he became in essence my alter-ego."

"So? Some secrets you did keep from your healer, Thranduilion, and that is never wise," scolded Elrond gently, but he smiled as he sat beside the confused warrior.

"Duilinion's naneth lives in Greenwood," Glorfindel blurted out.

"Really? That explains much," murmured Erestor.

He, too, came and sat close on the archer's other side so that his thigh was flush against the prince's. He smiled and passed his gaze brazenly over Legolas, stripping him bare with his gleaming eyes. Carefully and stealthily his hand found its way to rest atop the well-muscled leg and he squeezed just a minute amount. Legolas shot to his feet and was across the room in seconds while the space in front of the sofa was suddenly filled with the infuriated presence of one intensely jealous Balrog-slayer.

"What in bloody Mordor do you think you're doing?" he demanded.

"Testing a theory," replied Erestor calmly.

"You will not put your hands on him unasked," threatened Glorfindel, looming low and thrusting his fore-finger in Erestor's face.

"I would call this conclusive evidence," the seneschal remarked to Elrond, un-phased by the menacing bulk of the mighty Vanyarin Lord. "As far as he's concerned, this is his Legolas, be he Duilinion or Thranduilion."

Before anyone could answer, Thranduilion spoke. "I am not anybody's," he hissed. "I am my own, a free person without bonds or strictures of any kind save fealty to my Lord and Sire, Aran Thranduil, loyalty to my homeland, and the natural love one bears for one's Naneth."

"Well said and I concur," stated Elrond, rising and joining Legolas where he remained poised near the exit. "That is why we have called you here and why you yourself came to Imladris. Legolas, we are concerned that your namesake may be here, too, attempting to usurp that natural freedom that is your right."

A few seconds of silence passed by and then Legolas stumbled back to the seats and slumped into a waiting armchair. "Tawar nin Beria," he gasped and looked up as Glorfindel hurried over. "You believe this?"

"I do not know," admitted the worried suitor, wanting so much to kneel there beside him on the floor and clasp him at the shoulder. He remained standing, hands clenching awkwardly as they tried to carry out at least part of this desire and were reined back.

"It is best to learn the truth," Elrond joined them. "That is but one of the possibilities."

"The other being that you are truly Duilinion re-born," stated Erestor from his place across from Legolas. Their eyes met and he smiled kindly. "It is possible, if Námo released you at the same time he set Glorfindel loose. One born in Aman, the other here in Middle-earth, and now the two meet again. I think we will discover that you share the same begetting day, or very nearly the same."

"What can it matter?" asked Legolas. "Lord Glorfindel was born in the First Age; I am a product of the Third."

"Actually," offered Glorfindel hesitantly, "that is both true and false. I was only re-born a short number of years ago. My time in Mandos was long for I for many reasons. I will be 130 years of age on the first full moon of Súlimë (March)."

"Oh," Legolas stared at him; he and Glorfindel were contemporaries? He had lumped the Vanyarin Lord in with the other legendary figures peopling the historical accounts, ascribing to him all the awe and respect and deferential distance such reverent generalisations imposed. Yet they were equals in experience in this Age and that made the Balrog-slayer suddenly much more accessible and approachable. "I am exactly five years younger."

"Fascinating," Erestor whispered, his eyes sparkling with intrigued interest.

"Is it? I fail to understand the significance," said Glorfindel, thoroughly confused. Duilinion's naneth lived in Greenwood, he and Thranduilion were nearly the same age, but it clarified nothing.

"The Valar have a reputation for generating synchronisity as a means to mark events in which they've had a hand. The Rising of Ithil at the return of my ancestors to Middle-earth, for example," Erestor offered. "I find the similitude in age indicative of Vairë's hand, that's all." "That may be, but I have parents," insisted Legolas, "and they were never in Gondolin. Curoniel abides in Greenwood but she is my namesake's mother, not mine. Ithiloth is my naneth."

"You are certain of this?" asked Erestor gently. "Thranduil and Ithiloth have been mates for the entirety of this Age and for just as many centuries have prayed for children. Yet, they were never so blessed until your arrival."

"What are you saying?" Legolas was on his feet again, white and trembling in outrage. He pointed down at the seneschal. "You defame me and my parents baldly and expect it to go unchallenged? Take back that slur or meet me in the arena at tomorrow's dawn!"

"Aye, and you'll have me to face when that test is done," snarled Glorfindel. "Your mind is a midden of rotting refuse, Erestor. Beg mercy or be damned!"

"Enough!" Elrond placed himself between his cousin and his master-at-arms. "All of you, enough," he repeated, sending Erestor a reproving glare over his shoulder. "No one is defaming your parents, Legolas. Erestor is perhaps too blunt but he means no disrespect."

"Indeed, pen neth, Ithiloth and Thranduil have been among my dearest friends for much longer than you have been alive," affirmed Erestor. He stood and bowed low. "Yet I do beg mercy for any implied insult, to you or to them or to Curoniel or to Duilinion. Even to you, Glorfindel," and he bowed a second time. "Yet these are the possible answers to this puzzle and if we would learn the truth then we must be honest and open-eyed. Denial cannot aid you, Legolas, in resolving this problem." His hand indicated Glorfindel and again he offered a benevolent smile.

"I accept your apology," answered Legolas, shaken more by the seneschal's forthright manner than he had been by the oblique slight. He breathed a calming breath in and out and looked from Glorfindel to Elrond. "So be it; I am no child. Whatever is in my making I will face it. My parents love me no matter what that truth may be. What is this cure you would have me attempt?"

"You had best sit down again," counselled Elrond and pressed his patient into compliance. Then he told him what they would do. The silence that followed went on so long the great healer began to fear Legolas was lost in some kind of stuporous fit, the shock to his psyche too great to confront. Anxiously the three Lords looked from one to another, unsure of how to proceed, but then Legolas stood abruptly.

"Are you well?" asked Glorfindel, thinking it the most ridiculous question possible for how could he be, learning three virtual strangers proposed to chain him up and have joint intercourse with him. The prince's incredulous stare made him blush and look away.

Thranduilion focused on Elrond. "So the crux of the idea," said Legolas hoarsely, "is that if Duilinion un-housed is present he will attempt to possess my body while the three of you fuck me senseless."

"Aye, that's it," admitted Erestor, nodding sagely.

"Nay!" Elrond swatted him hard on the arm. "Legolas, we are not going to do anything you do not want us to do. There will be no drugs this time. We will all be in the trance together but I will not initiate any spell without your permission and I will not remove your ability to express your will."

"No drugs?" asked Legolas, horrified. "How am I to endure the realisation of that dream without some means to allay my natural dread of such a course?"

"You want to be drugged?" demanded Glorfindel, aghast.

"Of course I want to be drugged," announced Legolas, equally exasperated. "How else shall I go about letting three males subdue and master me in that manner?"

"You could refuse," pleaded Glorfindel, heart turning to lead for he knew already that Legolas would not. He had often asked this very thing of Duilinion, to be answered with a query as to when he would publicly announce their eternal union.

"You started this," accused Legolas, "and now you want me to live with this nightmare? If experiencing the dream will release me from bondage to that past, then I am prepared to do so." He took a step back from the legendary hero. "I felt this in the garden as I slept, this disfavour you harboured in your heart for the one you professed to love. You were there, were you not? I am pure as he was pure; how can you hold this against me?"

"I am also pure," admitted Glorfindel quietly, unable to meet the fiery eyes of the young prince. "I hoped to share that innocence only with you, for us to give one another that gift. I do not want to watch you writhing and begging as my friends spend their passions in you. Valar, Legolas, we fucked you so many times you bled."

"That was not me," said Legolas as all colour drained away from his countenance. He dropped heavily into the chair and his face fell into his hands. "Was it?"

Now Erestor came and knelt beside the chair. "Be at peace, Legolas," he said softly, his hand settling in gentle benediction on the bowed head. "We do not yet know, but whether or not it is true you have my solemn oath not to do you any harm in any way. I do not want to master you unless such would give you pleasure. Do you not think, given your current state of excitement, that it would? There is nothing wrong in accepting, nay, in celebrating this craving.

"These are joys laced with the thrill of fear and danger, safe in the knowledge that those here with you will see to your every need and desire while protecting your dignity. Such delights are my predilection; many have been initiated into erotic bondage through my tutelage. None have regretted it, learning that their hungers need not bring shame or disgrace afterwards. There is much enjoyment and fulfilment to be had if the bounds of trust are not abridged. Though you will be subdued and mastered, yet you will control everything that happens."

Hearing this, Glorfindel went and slumped atop the sofa, a quiet groan escaping his bereft heart. He would not look at the two of them together, so like in form to Duilinion and Malantur it turned his stomach. "You will have to drug me also," he said to Elrond, "else I can not do this thing."

"You need not stay," snapped Legolas, rising again, chest heaving and eyes smarting with tears. "Go, if this offends your lofty morals so!" he yelled. "No wonder he is still in Mandos. How broken his spirit must be to realise your disgust for something he could not control."

"Nay, it is not disgust," cried Glorfindel, standing to meet his would-be mate, contrite but adamant. "It is shame. Shame to have participated in making you that way when you were pure and untouched. I played a part in dishonouring you and have no wish do do the same again."

"How is it dishonourable if it is what I need and want?" asked Legolas, deeply confused for he was not sure those were his own desires. He did not know where the insight for his next words arose, but spoke them all the same. "The shame you feel is for the censure your love bought you, censure by those who called your feelings decadent lust. Is the heart so easily impeded by the opinion of others not involved in the matter?"

"My heart is not impeded, Legolas, but it bleeds for what was done that night and the repercussions that ensued at dawn," he explained earnestly. "Forgive me if I seem repulsed. I I do not want to have to share you again and that is for love of you not revulsion."

"It is not me that you love," reminded Legolas, "but I am the one here enduring the burden of your love. Yet will you walk away and leave me to face this alone?" He stepped closer and reached out, taking Glorfindel's hand as he searched the downcast eyes. What he hoped to hear he could not really define but his heart was thudding with anxious anticipation.

It was some little time before Glorfindel could look into those pleading eyes but when he did a great sigh left his lungs and his free hand lifted to cup the cheek so fair and pallid. Somehow they were connected, Thranduilion and Legolas of the Tree, and he could not turn away. He smiled bravely. "I will not leave. If this is what you need then I will see it through with you." Then he leaned in and placed a chaste kiss on the full lips, fingers dipping into the golden mane as he did. He stepped closer into the warmth of Legolas' aura and bowed his forehead against the prince's temple, shivering under the weight of the hand that settled over his pounding heart.

"The dawn need not bring either censure or degradation," announced Erestor, unimpressed by Glorfindel's magnanimous condescension in choosing to remain. It seemed to him the Lord of the Golden Flower had participated in Malantur's games much too willingly to be so appalled now.

"Certainly not. Whatever the mores of those ancient days, we do not hold such negative and judgemental views here," added Elrond. "Legolas of Gondolin was neither dishonourable nor unworthy of love. He deserved to relish the delights of the body and indulge the passions of his secret heart with anyone he might choose. Just the same rights do Legolas of Greenwood and Glorfindel of Imladris own."

Legolas was encouraged by these statements, though his real concern was to learn the origin of the urges assailing him even now. The visions were so vivid and the sensations so electrifying, he was not sure he had the power to resist them if given the chance to act them out. Glorfindel's presence beside him was rapidly usurping his ability to think rationally. He could hear his heart hammering and feel his breath. The scent of his arousal was becoming stronger with every second and Legolas was aware of that gnawing ache clawing at his belly again. He had but to turn his head a smidgen and he could press his mouth against the Balrog-slayer's lips. His thoughts were called back to the larger issue at hand before he made up his mind whether or not to dare it.

"Is it your desire to engage in this fantasy with us, Legolas?" asked Erestor seriously, rising and standing before him well aware of the unmistakable scent of the Wood Elf's arousal. He let his body respond in kind, welcoming the tightening in his groin which he caressed without compunction. Glorfindel's eye was on him but he ignored the baleful glare, concentrating solely on the young prince's reaction.

Legolas met his gaze and then let his sight drop to the long hand and its decadent offering. If he said yes, the organ growing rigid there would soon pierce him, the thick length of hot flesh burning as it thrust against his core. Its flavour would be known to him forever more and the bitter juices it expelled would coat his throat. Instantly the dream filled his mind and he knew Erestor's cock was the first he would suck. His heart stumbled and he swallowed down a sudden increase in salivation. He moaned, unaware of it, thoughts dominated by how painful his erection was, retained beneath his clothing, how thrilling it would be to expose it, wondering what Erestor would think of him. He felt an urgent need to strip and licked his lips.

"I think that is a firm yes," smiled Elrond. His cock was fire-hardened steel beneath his clothes and like Erestor he stroked himself, putting his hands beneath the waist to do so, advertising his length blatantly by easing the pants down so the ruddy tip was just visible. Legolas' eyes were glued to it so he pinched himself, squeezing out a drop of clear essence and then casually licking his fingers.

The prince's mouth fell ajar and stayed open until Glorfindel carefully closed it, guiding the hand gripping his so tightly down to his erection. He rubbed against it in decadent desire and then let go, smiling as Legolas groped him freely, eyes glazed with salacious hunger, lips parted as his breath became rough and ragged. Glorfindel kissed them, dipping his tongue inside and thrilling when it was greedily sucked. Simultaneously, fingers trailed over the Wood Elf's hidden cock, already leaking so that there was a wet stain on his thigh. He pressed and pinched the covered glans hard enough to hurt.

Legolas bleated in surprise but his legs shifted apart to enhance the contact. He could not think of anything beyond the burning desire to have Glorfindel open the leggings and take him in hand. He was disappointed when the kiss ended and the hand retreated. He found himself blinking at Glorfindel in both wonder and fear.

"Erestor, stop inciting him and turn off the pheromones or I won't have time to invoke the spell before we start," complained Elrond.

"It is not me," whispered Erestor. "It's him." He could not stay away and moved behind Legolas, taking hold of his narrow hips and pressing close against the firm, round rear. He rocked, groaning in delight, and was not pleased when Glorfindel shoved him hard in the chest and sent him staggering backward.

"Elrond, now would be a good time to get the crystals in place," rasped the Balrog-slayer, not certain he could wait after all. He would have him and have him first this time. Then if Legolas wanted the others, he would abide it, but rather thought Legolas would not. In his mind flashed the notion that within there were numerous ways and means to punish him for such base cravings should he choose to indulge them. He took hold of Legolas' hand again and pulled him toward the inner door behind which lay Erestor's emporium of pain and delight.

Legolas' eyes bulged as he realised what the room contained and he balked, refusing to take another step though Glorfindel was attempting to shove him through. The dream, which had overwhelmed him so quickly, just as suddenly collapsed and dissolved, his desire died, and he turned to flee; this was not what he wanted. The room terrified him and he did not want to be naked and bound to that plush platform by the mithril chains pooled upon the leather.

"Nay!" he cried and shoved Glorfindel out of the way only to run into Erestor, who held him tight and refused to let go no matter that he struggled. "Nay!" he cried again and could not hide the terror in his voice. Immediately the presence of Glorfindel touched his aura as a huge fist sailed through his peripheral vision and crashed into the Noldorin Lord's cheek with a loud and painful crack.

"Unhand him at once!" bellowed the Balrog-slayer but the words were not necessary for Erestor was seated on the floor at their feet having landed hard on his rear from the impact of the blow.

"You dare strike me down?" threatened Erestor, scrambling upright and eager to repay the favour, but he could not do so without rudely pushing Legolas aside. He pointed past him at the Vanyarin Lord's furious countenance. "For that you will answer, Glorfindel. I am part of this because it is necessary; someone experienced in such matters is required to ensure all goes well. Besides, Legolas wants it this way. If you cannot deal with it then you should go."

"I will go and Legolas will go with me!" thundered Glorfindel. "This is not going to happen; I refuse to allow it." He took hold of Legolas at the elbow and attempted to steer him through the blocked portal.

"Tawar nin Beria!" breathed Legolas, gaping at the seneschal and then at Glorfindel. He set a restraining palm upon the broad chest and pushed back, re-entering the room of torment. "Nay, enough, he responds to my body's signals. Do not blame him for you cannot control your reaction either," he added quietly. Now that he was fully inside the room, he gave it a slow and thorough inspection, shuddering as he documented each and every devise of erotic pain and bondage, many for which he could not comprehend the correct application.

"Tawar Nín Beria," he said again. "Lord Elrond, now is the time for the drugs, if you please."

"That cannot be, pen neth," explained Elrond, coming into the room with his little wooden box of crystals. He motioned for the prince to follow, knowing Glorfindel would be right beside him to prevent Erestor's wandering hands from taking any further liberties. He went right to the platform, deciding there was no need to pretend that was not their ultimate goal, and sat down upon it, patting the leather next to him in a beckoning manner as he smiled at the wary prince. He waited until Legolas joined him and then continued.

"What just happened informs me that we must not remove whatever limited control you still have," he said gravely. "Whether or not you are Legolas Duilinion is no longer a question unanswered, at least for me. I am certain now you are being manipulated by the unseen, but vividly felt, spirit of your namesake. Your kinsman wants to re-enact the scene of his debasement with you under his control as it happens."

"Why?" demanded Legolas, voice pleading and filled with frustration. "He already went through it and truly I am not sure I want to do things this way." Even so, his erection had not abated and with Elrond so near he could not help thinking of that ruby pinnacle poking above his waist. It was all he could do to keep his fingers to himself, his eyes he could not control, nor the involuntary way his tongue darted out and swiped across his lower lip. "Ai Valar, what is wrong with me?".

"Nothing," Erestor spoke up firmly. In a flash he was on his knees beside the dais, hands on the prince's knees, body pressed between his legs. "It is what you want and need and I for one am pleased to give it to you." He planned to steal a kiss but his hair was snatched and yanked so hard he feared it would tear free.

"He said he does not want to do it," shrieked Glorfindel. "Leave him be!" He cast Erestor aside but found himself in the exact same spot seconds later, only his hands were not on Legolas' knees. Blatantly he groped the engorged cock and the archer groaned, spreading his legs. "You do want it, though, don't you?" he hissed and began untying the leggings. As he did, Legolas tore frantically at his tunic.

Elrond and Erestor stopped them, the former grabbing Legolas by the arm and dragging him out of Glorfindel's hands as Erestor enveloped the Balrog-slayer around the shoulders and hauled him backward. The two were soon involved in a violent scuffle as knees and fists and even teeth connected with clothing and skin and hair amid a jumbled cacophony of curses and growls.

"Enough!" It was not Elrond who shouted this time but Legolas, standing with heaving lungs and glittering eyes, his pants half-open and his tunic all askew. "Not like this. I do not want fighting. Whatever else I may have dreamed, this rivalry was not part of it. That is not what I want."

They heard him and the brawl ended as quickly as it began and for Elrond there was no doubt whatsoever as to who was controlling events. Shame-faced and out of breath, the two great Lords parted and set about straightening their garments and wiping at small bloody cuts. Glorfindel presented Erestor a handkerchief in silent apology, who used it while tendering over one of his own in kind.

The lore-master, still holding to Legolas' arm, pulled gently and guided him to sit again on the platform. Silently he held out his hand to Erestor, he being closest, and the small box of crystals was placed on his palm. Not a second too soon, he thought, and eyed Legolas warily, wondering what new trick might be attempted to prevent the spell being cast. With haste he set them up, murmuring the incantations quickly as Erestor again came near, this time to catch their patient as the prince slumped senseless into his arms.

"Ai! Is he all right?" demanded Glorfindel, hurrying over as Erestor laid him gently down.

"He is fine," said Elrond. "Now hurry; strip him down and chain him up before he comes around. The spell to include them all had not yet been spoken, for he had realised the need to incapacitate the restless spirit so gifted in inspiring their lust. Another surge of that incubus' erotic power and they would all succumb.

Indeed, the air was thick with the heady scent of him and it required heroic effort for Glorfindel to control the impulse to mount the senseless body and thus be the first to claim him. He refrained, sweat standing out on his brown, hands opening as though to get hold of his frustration, respiration laboured and loud. "Elbereth," he whispered, staring in awe at the sight of the naked, bound ellon curled on the padded surface. He raised eyes to both his friends in confused misery. "What are we doing?"

"We are going to try and convince Duilinion to leave young Thranduilion alone," stated Elrond, drawing a steadying breath and forcing his eyes away from the tantalising sight of the helpless captive.

"You are sure?" asked Glorfindel. "How can you be so certain?"

"Valar, Glorfindel, Legolas Thranduilion is an untouched innocent. Do you believe he would know how to raise that level of excitement in the three of us?" said Erestor testily. "He displays a highly refined and fully developed knowledge of pheromone generation and projection. Few are able to master the art, much less perfect it to this degree."

"Well, not being among that elite class of seducers, I would not have any means of knowing," barked Glorfindel, saddened and worried. He sat on the platform beside Legolas and cautiously laid a trembling palm on the bare hip. Unable to stop himself, he bent and kissed the warm skin.

"None of that, Glorfindel," admonished Elrond and stayed him. "Now we need to enter the dream world with him. When he wakens, whatever design he had we must confront and thwart. You must not let yourself be controlled. I know not why he is so insistent on recreating this traumatic event, but it is not healthy for Thranduilion."

"Nor for you," added Erestor softly, sending Glorfindel a rueful smile when the Balrog-slayer looked to him. "I know now that he is your soul-mate. Forgive this trespass, mellon," his fingers swept the air above the naked ellon. "It is for his good and yours."

"Aye," Glorfindel had never known the word to be so bitter on his tongue. "What of Thranduilion? Will he be able to act independently?"

"None can say," Elrond shrugged. "I know of such treatments through written accounts. I have never attempted anything like this. We need to begin." So saying he called the two to sit beside their unconscious patient and once more used the glass wand to weave a circle of music and light around them.

This time the central crystal rang forth with a deeper tone, sonorous and sepulchre, and the colours that arose from it made a woven pattern of violet and blue in which quick bursts of bright crimson flashed and winked like tongues of flame. When this luminous wheel uplifted and expanded, touching Legolas first, the hues undulated and grew soft, filled with a opalescent gleam that pulsed through the wheel in a rhythm that was somehow tragic to watch. The three elven Lords gathered near actually flinched when the fingers of light reached out and pierced straight to their very souls. The room itself quivered and everything shifted slightly, but then stabilised and all was as before, save that Legolas moaned and stirred in his chains.

"Tawar nín Beria," he croaked and let loose another groan as he shifted to try and sit. The nature of the chains was instantly apparent as his cock was severely jerked. With a yelp he came down hard on his hip and immediately the pierced nipples were yanked. He cried and twisted in shaking fear to his knees. There he was, poised on hands and knees, naked, bound, and exposed, and he stared about him in blinking wonder. "Is this the dream or is this real?"

Elrond's brows rose high. "Thranduilion?" he asked, truly surprised, having been certain he was dealing with a misguided and deeply troubled spirit. The wide blue eyes peered at him in mixed dread and excitement.

"Aye," answered Legolas, shivering as he became aware of the eyes devouring his submissive pose. "Ai, this is not how it is supposed to go." A flash of something different passed through his eyes and that sense of worldly desperation filled his aura. "What are you all waiting for?"

"Duilinion?" demanded Elrond, more confused than ever. The hardened glare which pinned him then made him catch his breath. "Valar, we are neither fully in the dream nor in reality."

"Botched it, didn't you, mighty healer," spat the bound elf. "This is how you repay me the debt of life? You would give my beloved to this woodland prince! What gives you the right to decide he should have him?"

"What?" Glorfindel at last found his voice. "No one is giving me the prince. Ai! Is it you, Legolas?"

"It is," mourned the warrior of Gondolin, "though why I followed I know not. Nienna warned me against it but I had to know. You abandoned me for this new young prince, this substitute Legolas."

"He is not a substitute; I thought he was you reborn," insisted Glorfindel.

"Duilinion, this is wrong, to use Thranduilion's body thus," said Elrond. "You must return to Mandos and await the time for your rebirth. This will not mend your heart and he has done no wrong to you."

"No wrong? He steals away my soul-mate and you name it nothing," hissed Legolas. "I hoped for your aid and you owe me. Fulfil that obligation now!"

Almost at once the level of erotic allure in the room increased tenfold and if it had been maddening to stand by and look upon him sleeping in his bonds, the sight of him moaning and thrashing against the chains was beyond bearing. Wantonly he rocked against the restraints, his cock pulled and his nipples stretching as he wailed and spread his legs.

"Please, my Lords," he cried in tremulous fervour. "I need to be fucked. I need to come. Give me a cock to succour me, Valar, make me burn! Come, Erestor, I would know the flavour of your essence. Let me suck you as Glorfindel drills me deep and spills inside me. Take me and break me and take me again!"

The three Elven Lords watched in prurient fascination and it was too much to withstand. Glorfindel was the first to give in, crying out in wretched and lascivious dismay to want to do this thing. He struggled out of his clothing, aware of Erestor and Elrond doing the same, and reached the exposed rear as the seneschal reached the parted lips. For a second they paused, catching a glimpse of what they were about to do, but being this near to the begging and pleading ellon was more than either could endure. Glorfindel's cock was poised for entry and Erestor's felt the exhaust of the captives lungs when a new and strange phenomenon occurred.

Again the room wavered and then a brilliant flash of white light exploded, dazzling as a star fallen to earth, and both Glorfindel and Erestor were repulsed by a force neither could name, for it was not something of pain but evoked a sense of remonstrance and disappointment within it. They found themselves sitting on their haunches gazing at the vision of two faint and shadowy forms sharing the platform, both naked and erect but neither bound any longer.

There was Legolas Thranduilion, innocent and untouched, seated beside his ruined cousin, who cast himself down upon the platform and wept in abject misery. To see them it was as though the two were mirror images of one another, like twins divided by Ages of time but brothers nonetheless, and so it was. Thranduilion was moved to pity, though he had been furious to be so used and that wrath had spawned this bizarre juxtaposition of past and present. He reached out and set a comforting hand upon the heaving shoulder.

"Why did you want to do this thing to me?" he asked, for he could not understand. He had not wished to take Glorfindel for his own and would not have imagined the idea had not the Balrog-slayer arrived in Greenwood. That thought opened his eyes. "Ah, I see," he soothed. "It does not have to be like this."

"It is like this," sobbed the broken warrior. "He wants you as he never wanted me."

"No, he wants me to become you," advised Legolas, nodding.

"It does not matter now," said Duilinion, coming to the end of his tears and propping himself on his elbow so he could look his rival in the face. "He would not wait for me. Again I am betrayed. Why does the heart love? Ai, it is a ruinous thing to feel such emotions and I do not want to feel them anymore." His gaze sought Elrond. "Master healer, can you amputate the organ from whence they arise?"

"Nay, Legolas," said Elrond, saddened beyond words for he knew not how to help this ellon. The wounds were so deep he could not see any healing possible, and indeed the injuries seemed to have worsened over time."

"Since he left me, they have done so," Duilinion answered his mental comment. Red rimmed eyes filled with fierce ire turned on Glorfindel. "You wretched betrayer!" he seethed. "Why could you not wait? I would have come to you in time."

"I was waiting, please believe me! I have not been with another and will not. Please, Legolas, I am content to wait. I believed this was you," Glorfindel wailed, waving vaguely at Thranduilion's shadowy form.

"Liar! I was in the maze and your thoughts are not hidden from me. You want this one; admit it! He is all I never was and you can feel easy in your oh so proper moral skin to want him. How eagerly you petitioned his father to have him! Did you think I would not know?" The bereft spirit shrieked, barely rational in the tempest of sorrow raging through his soul.

"You sought to bring Thranduilion low," said Erestor, insight bursting through his mind, "so that Glorfindel would reject a bond with him as he rejected you."

"True, Noldorin prince," snapped Legolas, "and my good healer intervened."

"He did not and you know it," spoke Legolas of Greenwood. "I stopped them. He was just as enthralled but content to watch and have me later. He wanted to be the one fucking me when I came."

At this announcement all eyes found Elrond and he turned crimson from his patrician brow to his naked balls. He made an ineffectual attempt to hide his blatant erection and Erestor laughed.

"No need to be ashamed, cousin," he enjoined. "We were all quite overwhelmed by the wily incubus."

"You would hurt another for that cause?" demanded Glorfindel, angry once more to be used to injure someone who was innocent of all that had gone before. "That is not like the ellon I loved. What has happened to you, Legolas?"

"You left me!" shouted the bereft faer. "You left me for this lovely little treat. So then, go ahead and have him; I do not care any longer. Fuck him hard and long; let him know what it is like to get that lovely cock thrust up his ass and nothing but that."

"Yes, you do care and you must stop this," admonished Legolas of Greenwood sternly. "Hear me, there is another way to resolve the quandary. We need not be in conflict. Can you not see how this jealousy is what brought your brother to execute such an evil act against you? Will you do the same now? He could not bear to see his father express love and pride for you, could not stand that his mother's place was usurped, her dignity tarnished. Instead of facing his father with these fears and accusations, he sought to sully you so that Duilin would turn away."

"He succeeded," wailed Legolas of Gondolin. "All who loved me turned away and left me: my Nana, Hîren Adar, and Glorfindel."

"Your mother did not know," said Elrond. "She trusted Duilin to keep his word. As for the Lord of the Swallow, he knew not how to protect the heart of one son without wounding the other. He chose to wound you, but that is not the fault of your namesake. Return to Mandos and confront these wrongs done unto you that you may be healed."

"No," said Thranduilion. "Not everyone left you. Your mother lives in Greenwood and loves you dearly but grieves for your return. Likewise, Aldarion is here in Middle-earth and resides in Lindon by the sea. He come to Greenwood every Yule to be with his sister and he has been good and kind to me."

"You think to comfort me," said Duilinion, "but the comparison you have drawn is more real than you comprehend. We have the same mother, Thranduilion. We are more than cousins, for she made you to replace me. What solace do you offer me now?"

"I know this," said Legolas, glancing to Erestor with a small nod of thanks. But for his suggestion this revelation might have unhinged him. "She did not want to replace you but to give you life anew. Do you blame her? She had no wish to harm you more and certainly none to do wrong to me, for she gave me up, too. My parents are Thranduil and Ithiloth and thus I love them, though Curoniel gave me life with her body."

The son of Curoniel and Duilin gaped at the son of Thranduil and Curoniel in confusion. "You are not bitter?" he asked but did not wait for an answer and went on, seeing suddenly a glimmer of what he was being offered. "It is much to ask."

"You have asked nothing of me," Legolas smiled and held out his hand.

There was no pause; Legolas of the Tree clutched at the hand as if the fingers were a lifeline and it was the truth. Again the scene shimmered and winked, everything simultaneously obscured and surreal, and then another blossom of blinding white filled the place so that all eyes must be shut or burnt. When the environment returned to the sumptuous confines of Erestor's decadent den of iniquitous pleasures, there chained to the platform lay Legolas, insensible and still. Suddenly the large obsidian crystal sang out of its own accord, the tone majestic and compelling, a mixture of youth and wisdom difficult to imagine but beautiful to hear, and a single beam of indigo light arose from its heart. The ray touched Legolas where he slept and then he stirred, moaning in discontent, but did not fully waken.

"Ai! Hurry!" shouted Erestor and abruptly set about removing the restraints. He gathered up the limp form in his arms and stood, striding toward a door at the back of the room. Suddenly noticing that Glorfindel was not beside him he paused and half-turned, shooting him an annoyed glare. "What are you waiting for? Get up and come here, pen alhand!" he ordered. "Before you were ready to throttle me for touching him and now you let me carry him off to my private chambers to bed him? Some soul-mate you are."

As expected, Glorfindel emitted an incoherent shout of rage and charged after him, only to be stopped as Erestor thrust the naked ellon against his chest. "Mind how you treat him," he said gently, grinning as he watched Glorfindel gather the awakening prince against his heart. "He's a bit fragile still. And when you are both ready for it, I'll be happy to confine him to that platform so we may resume our joint exploitation of his glorious allure."

"Not in this lifetime," glared Glorfindel, but then his expression softened a little. "At least, not for a while yet." He smiled as the seneschal held open the door for him.

"Third room on the left, everything is ready for you," beamed Erestor happily, feeling quite noble and good inside. He watched them walk down the hall, aware of Elrond joining him. The prince made another incoherent noise that sounded like a yawn and then his arm wrapped possessively around the Balrog-slayer's neck.

"Glorfindel?" his sleepy voice called in wonder.

"Aye, it is me," answered the gallant warrior of Gondolin. "Is it you, Legolas?"

"Of course it is me," sighed the archer. "I hope there is a good reason you are carrying me naked through some unknown place, a reason that has to do with alleviating this incredible erection rubbing into my side."

"It does," Glorfindel snickered, glancing over his shoulder with a last look of thankful joy before he kicked open the appropriate door and the pair disappeared inside.

Erestor sighed happily and turned his beaming smile upon Elrond. "That is simply the second-best outcome possible," he said.

"Best being that we all fucked him for hours until he passed out?" smirked Elrond. "Agreed."

They laughed a little and turned back to the room, but Erestor did not shut the door for just then the first exclamation of many to come arose from the sequestered couple. Naked and aroused, the two mighty Lords exchanged speculative glances.

"So," said Erestor and was at once interrupted by a long-drawn cry from which ever one of the two was suddenly and forcibly entered. The shout was overprinted by a deep, guttural groan and they felt fairly certain who was on top.

"So," said Elrond, eyeing the platform and then his kinsman. "Seems a shame to just leave all your preparations unused and unappreciated."

"It does indeed," affirmed Erestor, smiling at the long red column of rigid flesh sprouting between the legs of the Lord of Imladris. "I think we're going to have to find a larger restraint for that," he pointed at the crimson organ.

"Nay," Elrond shook his head, as he adjusted his balls and loosed a whispery groan. "Should fit you well enough, Erestor."

"Me?" said the seneschal, eyes wide in feigned shock. "You propose to confine me to that platform?"

"Yes, I think so," Elrond grinned wickedly and let his eye rove over the comely form, hand moving to massage his penis.

"Do you really believe you can subdue me and force me into those chains?" challenged Erestor, hands on hips, rigid shaft pointing at his cousin, and an equally lurid leer transforming his features.

"I certainly intend to try," warned Elrond and pounced.

TBC

NOTE: If you care to have the rest posted here, let me know it. I grow weary of this teeth-pulling. ~ erobey


	7. Chapter 7

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Seven: Blended Soul**

Glorfindel set Legolas on his feet to kiss him and lingered over the oral exchange, marvelling over his uncertainty; how tentative were these first touches of tongues and lips. Somewhere in his history he had done this a thousand times and knew exactly what pleased the pinioned Swallow, but Glorfindel wasn't sure it was he and could not manage to retrieve the memories anyway, feeling as awkward and diffident as the virgin he was. The kiss ended and he held Legolas pressed close against his chest, terrified to move and break whatever spell had arranged this pristine moment for them.

They stood gazing upon one another in wonder, both aware of the dream-like quality in the air they breathed and the thoughts running between them. Could this be happening in reality? Could they truly be standing naked in one another's arms about to share the one gift their hearts most desired to have?

Legolas smiled, for his part content whether it was dream or not. Content, for the mighty warrior's heart was beating with a strong, steady rhythm that matched his perfectly, their respiration rising and falling in concert, and the warmth of their connection, flesh against flesh, was comforting at the same time that it was exhilarating. He was fully aware of the press of hard nipples against his chest, the sensation of taut muscles beneath the velvety resilience of smooth, unblemished skin, and the heated fullness of their paired erections ensconced side by side between their bellies, but felt no need to enhance the experience by increasing the friction, relishing instead a new and delicious sense of anticipation.

Soon they would move from here to the luxurious bed tucked discreetly in the alcove, but right now they stood and simply held one another, for it had been long indeed and the need for that familiar cohesion was just as demanding as the urge to confirm their eternal bond. Ah, to have Glorfindel young and insecure and innocent; to be equal in status and contemporary in age; to be matched in every way as they had never been, this was a boon un-looked for and welcomed with humble joy. Legolas was happy and while he had known the emotion before, yet too often it was incomplete and overlain with sorrow.

He hastened his thoughts away from that comparison for this was bliss: Glorfindel's hands gently rubbing his spine, smoothing over his head, touching his shoulder, following the curve of his buttocks, wrapping him suddenly in a tight and protective embrace and rocking him slowly, kissing his hair and whispering in his ear wondrous words of love and gratitude, only to start over and repeat the gentle adoration. Every touch was filled with both consolation and an electric quality of eager exploration, a sense of Glorfindel confirming that Legolas was flesh and blood while simultaneously amazed that it could be so, that he held the archer naked against him, free to learn the contours and angles of his physique. It was seduction of a kind he had imagined but never known and he was not prone to hurry the consummation of their love.

He imitated these gentle liberties, hearing his voice respond in quavering delight to speak such soft endearments. Their eyes met and they smiled, lips sealing tenderly, less fumbling and more searing but still restrained, neither ready to unleash the pent desires smoldering slowly to white hot passion. The parting was sweet and they inhaled and released the same breath, snuggling back into a tight embrace, and resumed their romantic foreplay.

"Legolas," Glorfindel whispered, kissing the bare white shoulder.

"I am here," Legolas answered, the touch familiar, the sensation charged with memory he immediately suppressed.

He wanted to feel it all anew, everything he had missed his first time when body and mind were overruled by potent chemicals that stole from him forever the conjunction of wonderment, fear, and fretful fumbling inherent in a virgin's experience of sexual union. He wanted to feel it all with Glorfindel whom he loved. A tingling shiver ran through him, aware of the hot, thick erection against his abdomen, and he savoured it, both yearning to open his body to the powerfully potent ellon and worried about the pain that penetrating force must bring at first, for he was untouched in truth. Legolas wanted to whoop and dance in delirious abandon to know this mild dread, a proof of innocence denied him so long ago. This was as it should be, as he'd imagined it would be.

Then he sobered, for the bond they were about to solidify would overtake him utterly. He would be forever changed, a composite of ancient and new souls that were as yet still separate. Within his heart a resonating note of affirmation rang through that new part of him, allaying fully this concern; it was a transformation both aspired to achieve. A great fount of radiant gratitude welled up and spread through him, an outpouring of appreciation and love for which words could not account and even thoughts could not faithfully relay; it was a complete offering of spirit to spirit and was accepted with equal appreciation and a gentle nudge of reassuring communion that held its own bright spark of fear and anxious anticipation. He reached out in kind and it was like an embrace of hearts that at once comforted them both.

Legolas found there were tears upon his face and Glorfindel was kissing them away, beseeching him to speak and allay his worry. The words were in the ancient tongue and he mentally translated for his brother, smiling at the immediate and indignant chastisement; Legolas knew seven languages and spoke Quenya fluently.

"Say something, beloved, anything, so that I know you are well," Glorfindel begged.

"Foolish one, I am well. It is just a fantastic gift we are sharing here and now. Can you conceive it? Never has it been like this, none could imagine such a course of events possible, not even that clever healer and his clairvoyant henchman."

"A wondrous gift, to be sure, but then why these tears?"

"Tears because it is too much to contain such feeling, Glorfindel. I weep for the measure of happiness granted is greater than the burden of pain I so long endured. What can I do to repay such generosity?"

"Gifts need never be repaid," explained Glorfindel patiently. "Fate favours us at last; no need to ask why or how. Yet, Elrond and Erestor have played a part and I do feel gratitude to them."

"Ai, what are you doing serving these Noldorin princes, beloved? You are more lordly than ever shall they be and owe no thanks to them. I do not like to think of you bowing to their orders and cleaning their boots."

"I don't clean boots," growled Glorfindel but then he shrugged. "Manwë asked me to come here and so I did. You know why; will you make me speak the words after all?"

"Not if doing so will make you feel lesser. I do not want that. What I want," Legolas grinned suddenly and reached up to caress a face so dear it was painful to look upon it, "is for you to kiss me," he finished in breathless hope, heart leaping and eyes watching the firm red lips so close, so inviting.

They dived for him and he sighed aloud, opening to Glorfindel's tongue in exultant surrender and neither was as uncertain this time. Their third kiss ended in perfection at exactly the right moment and he found himself looking into the most astounding set of blue eyes he'd ever seen, the intensity of feeling therein enough to make him catch his breath.

"I will say it anyway, for it does not diminish me," Glorfindel announced in quiet humility. "I agreed so that I would not be above you in station when Námo reunited us." He smiled in self-mockery and chuckled as he softly rubbed a thumb across the archer's warmly blushed cheek. "Imagine my surprise to find you a prince of the mightiest and most long-enduring of elven realms on Arda."

"That was Alatamillë's doing, and Ada's," said Legolas. He and Glorfindel were nearly matched in height and he did not have to stretch far to take his own taste of the Balrog-slayer's mouth. Glorfindel did not resist but there was enough hesitation in the osculation to make him draw back sooner than he might have wished. He scanned the shifting lights in the uneasy eyes. "What is wrong?"

"I don't understand it," admitted Glorfindel. "You are with me, but what of that new bright soul, Legolas of Greenwood?"

Legolas smirked and cocked a knowing brow. "Oh, do you want him?"

"I did," admitted Glorfindel, dropping his eyes, "for he was so much like you before everything, before that night. So full of potential and so I don't know how to describe him. Quietly noble, refreshingly unpretentious, adoringly naive." He was pleased to see a brilliant smile and a shy flutter of lashes accompany his stumbling words.

"I thank you, though I am not sure it is good to be awkward and ignorant. I really am not lacking in understanding, for I read everything about sex and the awakening of the body, terrified mine would never do so, yet the texts gave no information as to how it actually feels when it finally happens." Legolas paused and looked into the comely face so near, so dear. "It is wondrous, Glorfindel," he whispered and this time his lips trembled as they wandered over the graceful jaw and down the neck that bent to grant him access, a broad hand cupping the back of his head in gentle and possessive guidance. He settled his cheek atop a sturdy shoulder and smiled.

Glorfindel stroked his hair in silence, the other hand secured at the small of the archer's back; Legolas' arms wrapped about the Balrog-slayer's neck and waist. Eons of time flitted by in a matter of heartbeats and then the re-born warrior gathered his courage and spoke.

"Thranduilion?"

Legolas stirred in his arms and presented a mildly annoyed countenance. "Why do you call me that? I despise it and nobody calls my Ada 'Oropherion' nor do the Twin Lords of Imladris have to endure being referred to as 'Elrondionath'." Then his features reorganised and the expression was both forgiving and adoring. "Still, I do know why and it does not bother me much."

"Ai! Is this possible?" Glorfindel peered deep into the blue eyes of the ingenuous prince of Greenwood. He made to stand back from the person clasped in his arms but the archer's locked tighter around him.

"Nay, please don't; I need this," pleaded Legolas urgently. "Do not be frightened, Glorfindel; it is me."

"Duilinion?" stammered Glorfindel, totally bewildered, but he could not but respond to that heartfelt supplication and relaxed into their embrace. "Ai Valar, what is happening?"

"Don't be frightened," Legolas repeated, again settling his cheek against the swath of bright golden hair spilling over his beloved's shoulder. He squeezed hard and then let the hand secured at the Balrog-slayer's waist wander lower, palpating the thick muscles of the well-formed rear. The flesh quivered and a small sound of surprise arose and he smiled, giggling lightly. "You are a virgin, too, and just as naive as I. I thought my first time would be with someone experienced, much older. We will figure things out together, then." He lifted his head and met the worried gaze with a tentative smile. "You still want me?"

"Of course I want you, I just don't know who you are," Glorfindel blurted out. "I love you, but I don't think I know you at all. How can that be so?"

Now the face before him turned more sombre and serious and the soul in the vibrant eyes showed its ancient hurts again. "In many ways, you never did, beloved. It will not be like that now. You will have to see all the facets of my spirit this time, the good things and those that are not so pleasing, perhaps, to your rigid moral view. You could not look past the darkness then."

"Nay, not so. I loved you even knowing all that," argued Glorfindel uncomfortably. "So it is you and not Thranduil's son; you have possessed him and he is captive within his own body. Is that fair and right?" He was stopped by the sudden eruption of ebullient laughter that filled the room.

"It was my idea," announced Legolas, "and how can I be captive within my own body? Ah, Glorfindel, I feel for my brother deeply; you hurt him so."

"What? I did not mean to," blustered Glorfindel. He watched the shifting spirit behind the azure depths and drew a sharp breath. "This is maddening. I know you and yet I have no idea with whom I speak from one instant to the next."

"You are speaking to me. I am Legolas and I am here in your arms, complete but still torn and divided. Our union will close the wounds, Glorfindel, and stitch together my mind and soul."

"Then are you partially re-born or what? I cannot see what you mean, Legolas. The two of you are not separate and distinct beings?"

"I am unique," said Legolas, "and so is my half-brother, but we are also more than brothers. He is that side of me denied expression in Gondolin, the one you do not know because you could not see beyond the ugliness in which I was mired then. It is difficult to be noble and beautiful when you must forever crawl in the dust beneath the feet of the world."

"You were never ugly," refuted Glorfindel, "and you were more noble than many whose bloodlines were celebrated and glorified. I was a fool and I wounded you in the arrogance of my proud heart. How can you be here now, holding me close, kissing me, offering me a heart filled with love? Do you not hate me, Legolas, and is there no anger burning in your breast?" Glorfindel wondered if he was going to be punished for his unrelenting disparagement, thinking of the fury required to want to despoil Legolas so to make him as low and unacceptable as his counterpart. At once his heart flooded with guilty shame, for he was the agent of that desperate act. "I am truly sorry, so much more than I can say."

"You must say it," urged Legolas. "I need to hear it and know it is the truth."

"It is true, I swear it to you. What oaths can I speak to convince you? Gladly I will do so."

"If I went back in there and let them play their wretched games with me, would you scorn me anew?" Legolas asked, ignoring the fervent declaration. "There is pleasure in what they do and you know it well. Your memories contain that knowledge and you participated fully. How is it I was the one subject to such disgust, reviled and besmirched? Is it because my birth was too low?

"It must be so, for indulging the same sport did not sully your Lordly mien, Glorfindel, and Malantur was brought down by his allegiance to Meglin not for being the Master of my body." Legolas groaned and shifted against Glorfindel, his cock stiffening as it rubbed against the Balrog-slayer's engorged organ. "Do you not want to chain me up and punish me for wanting you to wait your turn and watch strangers fuck me until they could not get hard anymore? I enjoyed it; I would enjoy it again."

"Ai Valar," Glorfindel rasped, jolted by the erotic friction into a sudden flare of lust and he claimed Legolas' mouth passionately, possessively, sliding his hand into the narrow crease defining the archer's arse, seeking the sealed anus and rubbing it with his forefinger, pressing but not penetrating. "If there are to be games, then I will be the Master this time and grant access as I will it or no. Yes, I want to punish you. Why was I not enough to satisfy you, Legolas?"

"Ah, truth at last," growled Legolas, bumping back against the teasing finger, lungs working to keep up with his labouring heart. "Yet you cannot punish me in my virgin skin, for this is not Gondolin. Mayhap you are the one deserving punishment and I will subjugate you this time." He met the stormy countenance with open challenge, defiance in his voice and unshielded mockery in his tone. He nodded as the Balrog-slayer's eye cleared of both fury and lust and he gaped in chagrined realisation.

"Legolas, Legolas!" he cried in forlorn confusion, disentangling from the enticing cohesion and gripping the beautiful prince by the arms. "What is to be done? I will pay any price, aye, even to being your slave if that would convince you my heart is true. I am deeply aggrieved for what I have done, for what I was just thinking. Ai! My Lordly mien is sullied indeed but I was able to hide behind my titles and my stature in Turgon's court." He dropped to his knees and clasped both Legolas' hands in his, peering up into the silent face. "Forgive me, I enjoyed the games; I would enjoy them again. Yet I do not want to take that road, not now for I have you here before me, pure and innocent, untouched by those kinds of hungers. I would have your virgin skin and give you mine as well."

Legolas exhaled a deep sigh and smiled. "That is what I hoped to hear," he admitted, pulling one hand free to rest atop Glorfindel's head. "Neither of us deserve punishment, Glorfindel. What we had then was not unchaste so much as it was unacknowledged and unequal. That you can own your desires now, separate from mine, is to grant me at last the dignity of being a willing partner rather than sentencing me to the ignominy of the reprobate. You could not help what you thought then anymore than I could, for I believed as you did and thus I became debased and defiled."

"Nay, you were too young to comprehend such things and your Adar did not stand up for you and demand redress, as surely he should have done," stated Glorfindel.

He had more he wished to say but found his present location placed him in delectable proximity to the proud column of red flesh arising from the soft, honey-coloured curls and it was hard to focus on the past when the present was so much more inviting. He wanted to taste that lovely shaft and without pausing to consider if he should, out darted his tongue of its own volition, sampling the hot cock, swiping a slick wet trail at the base and half way up the pulsing vein. The flavour was rich and sweet at once and the response to his unplanned lick worked a huge grin on his face, for Legolas gasped aloud and snatched the hair under his hand.

"Oh, Glorfindel," he moaned, eyes locked on the triumphant eyes dancing with eager anticipation. "Are you "

He had no need to complete the question for the mighty swordsman's hand reached for his slender blade and gripped it tight, pulling to tip it down, down, right down into the open mouth ready to receive it. Glorfindel's lips closed over his penis and Legolas gave a garbled cry of jubilant excitement, staggering so that his lover's other hand went at once to his hip and steadied him. All the while, a teasing tongue and sweet suction drew ever more of the distended organ into warm, wet confinement. Unbidden, his pelvis thrust forward and he wailed Glorfindel's name, for all of his cock was now concealed, half in the closed fist, half in the domain of that cavorting tongue.

The mobile muscle rolled over his glans and the faint pressure of teeth touched his shaft and Legolas howled. Spellbound, he watched Glorfindel retreat, withdrawing so slowly it was maddening and then the head popped free, slick and red, the sound so erotic it sent a pulse of energy bursting through his nerves, inspiring a quick buck forward. A bead of clear juice appeared at the orifice and Glorfindel's tongue zipped out and greedily lapped it up. The sensation robbed Legolas of thought, breath, and the ability to control his muscles. He jerked and danced to get back inside and at once the tip was enclosed behind the soft pressure of loving lips, there to be sucked, lapped, and verily devoured, all the while held firm and fast by the Balrog-slayer's hand.

Legolas squawked and wailed, caterwauled and cried, bellowed and bleated and emitted other noises he never dreamed would come from his mouth. He was also begging, so wantonly and so urgently it was as well his concentration was centred on what was being done to his cock. Then Glorfindel's hand let him go and settled on the small globes clustered close against the root of the organ, tentatively stroking them. Legolas shuddered and groaned, knowing now this intense experience was not going to last long. Vaguely and fleetingly he wondered about the etiquette of such a moment; should he pull out before he came? Could he? The questions lost relevance for at that moment Glorfindel chose to squeeze his balls at the same time he lapped over his slit, pressing against the sensitive opening. The surge of ecstasy that stabbed him was nearly painful and he froze, clutching tight to the thick tendrils of the flaxen mane, gaping into the glimmering eyes that flickered up to his.

A lurid gleam of triumph filled those beryl depths and Glorfindel renewed his efforts with increased vigour. He was so eager to make Legolas come he combined all the moves he'd used singly into a flurry of oral activity, watching the dazed and fervent eyes, encouraging the short quick jerks of hip and pelvis that made the resilient shaft drive deeper then retreat, rubbing across his palate so he could swab at the underside. Despite the heightened frenzy of the experience, Legolas was being very careful not to go too far and choke him and this made his heart swell with love.

He moaned, the vibrations working through the organ and he felt it twitch and strain and knew the moment had arrived. Again he squeezed the soft glands at the column's base and let his teeth nip into its tender tip and Legolas gave a frantic cry, wriggling in a confusion of instincts driving him to thrust hard and deep while simultaneously trying to pull out and spare his lover any undo trauma. Glorfindel held him fast, both hands on the writhing hips now, passionately triumphant as hot semen squirted over his tongue.

"Ah, Glorfindel!"

Legolas cried out long and loud, sobbing as orgasm claimed him and he pumped into the sucking heat. He felt the motion of muscles swallowing and the knowledge that Glorfindel had just consumed his seed gave him an extra thrill and released another small spurt of the vital fluid. Too soon it was over; he felt his cock growing soft and heard his pulse pounding, his breath struggling to supply him with air, his garbled exclamations of love. Again he locked eyes with Glorfindel and found there such an ocean of love and pride that he wished he could dive therein and submerge himself eternally within that noble heart. He smiled and bent down to kiss the crown of golden hair and only then did Glorfindel release him and stand.

Strong arms wrapped round him and he was kissed, that incredible tongue probing deeply and sharing the strange taste of his essence. They had to part for he could barely breathe and there they stood, still in the very same spot as before yet the two had travelled leagues in trust and wisdom.

"I love you," whispered Glorfindel.

"My heart is yours, and my soul and body, too," rasped Legolas between breaths, beaming at his beloved. "That was incredible. I think you remembered a thing or two."

"Perhaps so," laughed Glorfindel. "Are you displeased?"

"Nay, I am rapturous," sighed Legolas. He offered his mouth freely and it was willingly plundered. They parted and he presented a coquettish leer. "What have you done, Glorfindel? Am I still a virgin?"

"What a thing to ask," laughed the Balrog-slayer. "I think not, but plan to remove all doubt as soon as your racing pulse settles a little." He gave a strong thrust of his hips, forcing the length of his erection against Legolas' belly.

"Tawar nín Beria," intoned Legolas, but he was smiling and reached for the mighty organ, so thick and hard. He inhaled sharply as he fisted it. "Valar, you are heroically made. How am I going to get all of that inside my mouth?" He sent his love a teasing smirk and stroked the rigid flesh, watching to see if the tempo was right, the pressure enough, and like Glorfindel he remembered what to do without being consciously aware.

"Oh, yes, that's good," groaned Glorfindel, staring in avid fascination as the archer handled him. He rocked in and out of the delicious masturbation for a time, relishing the exhilarating frustration building in his loins. He lifted his eyes to Legolas and answered the cheeky grin with a snicker. "It is not going in your mouth, however."

"No?" Legolas' brows rose in feigned surprise. "Don't you want me to pleasure you?"

"Aye, but not that way," huffed Glorfindel, rolling into the hand with a grunting push.

"Then you want to come like this, spilling in my hand?"

"No, though the idea has its merits, too."

Legolas laughed and leaned in to kiss him, remaining close and nibbling his way to a very red ear tip, which he gently bit. Glorfindel startled and cried out, grabbing onto his arms, and the cock in his hands pulsed and rammed into him with such force that they staggered back a pace together. The power in the magnificent body sent a shiver running down his spine.

"What then do you want?" he asked breathlessly.

"I want to ravish you. I will spill inside you or not at all. I intend to claim you so thoroughly you will not be able to think of anything save how soon I'll be able to fuck you again," answered Glorfindel and he pulled the lethal fingers off him, hoisting Legolas up in his arms anew and bearing him to the waiting bed.

Yet the steps that carried him there were again short in distance but exaggerated in time and no sooner had he laid him down than Glorfindel had revised his plan. He climbed on the bed beside Legolas and studied him, still amazed to have the prince of Greenwood naked and spent, flushed and grinning, eager for whatever he might wish to do next, his to command.

"You are unbelievably beautiful, Legolas," he said quietly and drew near, running his hand over the firm muscles of an archer's chest, marvelling for the slender body was that of the young son of Duilin before his disgrace, before years of demanding practice wielding a heavy club developed and defined his biceps and shoulders. Glorfindel could not deny he preferred the more elegant physique on display before him and was disturbed; for what had he done to deserve this offering of his heart's desire? Nothing, and therefore all that was happening must be part of the cure to mend Legolas' spirit. The responsibility weighed heavy on his conscience, for a great part of that harm was his to claim.

"As are you," answered Legolas, peering at him closely. "What is wrong? This, if I understand the mechanics of the act rightly, is not intercourse."

Glorfindel smiled at his jest and again caressed the naked torso from nipples to navel, enthralled by the sinuous flex of muscles as Legolas' body followed the touch, arching into the motion naturally. Then he searched the questioning eyes trained upon him and spoke the words he should have said so long ago. "Do you understand that I love you?" he asked. "For truly I do. I want you as my mate and I want you for all time, the past and the present and the future yet to come. Will you have me, Legolas, and merge your spirit to mine?"

"Ai, Glorfindel," sighed Legolas. "Do you mean it?"

"I do. Say that you want the same."

"It is all I have ever wanted." Legolas reached for him and drew him down atop him, parting his legs to let Glorfindel rest between them. "Verily, I cannot love another and the pain of parting from you made me mad with grief and rage. Say that you will not ever leave me again, beloved."

"You know I can make no promise like that," admonished Glorfindel, "but I would never do so willingly. Is it enough?" He shuffled closer, the crown of his erection dragging along a lanky thigh, and shivered.

"It will have to be," sighed Legolas. "Make love to me, Glorfindel; make me yours." He ran his hands over the thick biceps supporting the noble warrior, fingering a small scar there, but his eyes never left the intense gaze trained upon him.

"Mine alone?" Glorfindel bent to take a taste of a scarlet nipple and remained a while, for Legolas liked it, moaning quietly and settling a hand to keep him there. The ripe red bud grew more tight and hot under his tongue and he left it with regret, but he would have his answer. The shining light in the prince's eyes made him grin but he waited still, eager to hear the confirmation at last.

"As you will it," said Legolas, "yours alone unless it would please you to share me. I am content with what I have right here." He shifted his leg to caress the heavy balls resting against it and the touch made Glorfindel jerk and slither closer, groaning as he bent his head to suck on the neglected nipple. Legolas whimpered and lifted toward the sensation. "Ai! That is exquisite. Will I get a turn at you as well?"

"All that I do to you are the very things I myself most enjoy," Glorfindel raised his head briefly, "so I certainly intend for you to have your chance, but I will have you first for my need has not been met."

"Your need is great," Legolas giggled and attempted to reach the rigid organ but could not for he was hindered by the weight of the body pressed against him. He could certainly feel it, though.

Glorfindel smirked proudly and resumed suckling, slowly soothing the slender frame beneath him, running his hand down the long torso to the hip, but then he moved back in the opposite direction and let the erect node slip from his lips, turning to examine what his hand had discovered. Legolas had a scar in his side, still pink and new, and that made him curious. He pushed up on his elbow, rolling to one side to have a better look and touched the sickle shaped mark lightly, watching to see if there was any pain. No indications were evident but Legolas was watching him intently, likewise leaning on an elbow to do so.

"Was it really a dragon bone that pierced you?" Glorfindel asked.

"Looked like one," Legolas shrugged. "Why? Does that blemish detract so much from my allure?"

"Nay, not so," insisted Glorfindel. He was stalling and they both knew it.

He tried reminding himself that he had done this plenty of times, though at the moment he couldn't manage to raise a single image of the two of them together. Even had he done so, all of those other times meant nothing for he had never ever sought to bond with Legolas, delighting in his flesh but refusing his heart. This was beyond their first sexual encounter; it was the beginning of their lives as mates. Mighty he was and bold, but the idea made Glorfindel nervous and insecure. What if he made a mess of things again? If he failed to please Legolas now, would their bond be null?

"I have other scars. There's an interesting one on my arse created when I sat on a dead spider, by accident of course."

"What?" The remark startled him out of his dire ruminations and he found Legolas smiling, a rather wry sort of expression as though he guessed what might be going through his lover's thoughts. Glorfindel shook his head. "How could a dead spider wound you enough to leave a mark?"

"The fangs were still on it and the poison sac was full of venom. It was my first spider kill, too."

"How," demanded Glorfindel, tone incredulous, "did you sit on the fangs of your very first spider kill?"

"You sound as though you doubt me."

"So then turn over and show it to me."

Legolas did, presenting his rear for scrutiny, smirking as Glorfindel completely forgot to look for the scar. This was as he intended, of course. He was not about to let the noble warrior become mired in worries about their history, not now when they were so close to achieving that for which he had so long yearned.

Glorfindel was mesmerised, staring at the tight mounds and the lovely dimples where the spine ended and the pleasing rump began, transfixed by the narrow crease within which lay the hidden opening. The scar was there, though it looked rather small to be a spider wound, but he scooted closer to bestow adoring lips upon the maroon imprint. Legolas twitched and Glorfindel grinned, reasoning he'd never been kissed on the arse before.

"I am sorry I doubted you," he announced and then proceeded to inspect Legolas' rear minutely.

He worked his way over the soft mounds of the buttocks, squeezing, licking, and occassionally planting little bites in honour of the dead spider who'd had the first taste. He turned Legolas a bit more on his stomach and lifted an interfering leg up toward his chest, opening that dark crease wide. Here was what he wanted and Glorfindel, though excited and eager to plunge inside the tightly puckered hole, was hesitant. He rubbed his fingers over it and Legolas startled and gave a short cry, growing tense and then relaxing anew. Glorfindel repeated the touch and a shudder pulsed through the fair warrior. The next touch must do more and he pressed down to let Legolas know what he planned.

The young prince adjusted himself accordingly, drawing his leg higher, tipping his pelvis a little more, exposing himself fully. A small shiver worked through the pale skin and raised a quick wave of gooseflesh that peppered his buttocks briefly, and he submitted himself to Glorfindel. Peering back over his half-turned shoulder, he watched the Balrog-slayer's mighty hands reach for him, felt the gentle pressure as his arse was oh so softly petted, Glorfindel's mouth ajar and his eyes glued to the sealed entrance. Then suddenly he lay flat, almost kicking Legolas in the shoulder as he did, and the next thing that happened made the prince squeal in surprise. That same gifted tongue was licking him there, poking gently but insistently at the tight hole.

"Ai, Glorfindel!" rasped Legolas, clutching the covers and trying to get his leg completely out of the way. "Are you going to "

Again he did not need to finish the question, for the answer came from the slick tongue but not in the form of words. It wormed its way inside him and after the initial shock Legolas tried to relax so that Glorfindel could do as he willed and not be hampered. The wet muscle retreated and then speared him again and again he cried out, jerking on the mattress. He moaned, realising Glorfindel's tongue was fucking him and his cock began to harden. In and out it slithered, sometimes lapping and licking the tender perineum between invasions, Glorfindel's breath blowing cold over his hole. There was no means to delve deep enough to lave the hidden gland and after a time Glorfindel righted himself, turning to watch Legolas as he abruptly inserted his forefinger past the slippery annulus and pushed it in as far as he could go.

Legolas sucked in a noisy breath and held it, eyes hugely round as the thick digit withdrew slightly and then ploughed in again. It felt huge and the friction burned for the length of it surpassed the point where the tongue had bathed the way and made it slick. His eyes watered and he blinked, choking out a grunt and twitching as he tried to stay still and let it happen. Inside, the finger moved, pushing here and pressing there, probing and prodding and always pulling back slowly as though to build tension to enable a forceful thrust when it dived deep again. This was not exactly pleasurable as he defined the word but he gritted his teeth and gripped the sheets, strained and rigid under the onslaught, thinking he liked the tongue much better. His emerging erection flagged; he lowered his head to the mattress and groaned.

Glorfindel stopped and Legolas exhaled a gasp and fell lax, panting fast and shivering, for the finger was still inside him.

"You really do need a cock," muttered Glorfindel dejectedly. "Valar, is it supposed to be buried so deep?"

"You are asking," Legolas huffed gruffly, "the wrong person. Don't stop. Keep trying. It's got to be in there somewhere."

"All right, but try not to be so tense. Mayhap I can push in farther."

"I am trying," complained Legolas.

"Sorry, it is not your fault; you were obviously designed with my dimensions specifically in mind," Glorfindel joked lightly but the exasperated expression Legolas turned upon him proved the jest was not perhaps timed properly. The Balrog-slayer renewed his efforts with determination and growing anxiety. If he didn't find the spot soon, what then? Should he just bore in with his cock and hope to strike the right zone? Surely that would be less than pleasant for Legolas. Perhaps if he went faster.

Putting thought to deed, he worked the finger in and out with rapid, sharp stabs, not pausing or slowing, twisting the digit into various configurations as he sought for the right place to touch. He was aware of Legolas squirming now, his leg trembling, a low cry following nearly every jab and it was clear he wanted to get free of the finger but was fighting the urge with heroic effort. Disheartened, Glorfindel was ready to give up when Legolas' pelvis twisted just as he drove in again and this time the cry that issued from the Wood Elf's lungs was filled with unadulterated lust and included Glorfindel's name.

Exultant, the re-born warrior grinned as two tremendous eyes, the blue all but vanished in favour of dilated pupils dark and dreamy, peered at him in hopeful excitement.

"Do that again," croaked Legolas and held himself still, fearing to move in case the finger lost its way. Slowly he felt the digit's retreat and the fabric under his hold grew damp with sweat. His heart was loud in his ears and then he held his breath; the finger rammed in and struck him full on the prostate with its blunt, bony tip. Legolas screamed and shook, his cock flexing beneath him as his hips shoved backward against the pressure.

"That's what I was looking for," Glorfindel laughed, smug yet relieved at his achievment and proceeded to stroke the hidden gland repeatedly. In lascivious wonder he catalogued every contortion of Legolas' body: the scrambling legs that sought to reorient his arse for better access, the jolting pelvis bending into every inward push, the rigid shoulders and arms that worked to keep his body in exactly the right position. Legolas was obviously enjoying the attention and the constant stream of blasphemous pleas for more displayed his ample vocabulary of profane and obscene language.

Glorfindel decided to add a second finger. Legolas uttered a guttural grunt and went still again, body trembling, silent save for his gusting respiration, but he took it well and soon enough a high keening cry arose. At first Glorfindel was afraid he'd made him come too soon but a quick check beneath the awkwardly raised leg reassured him. The sheets were dry.

Emboldened, and desiring to hurry things a bit, he inserted a third finger and moved more slowly, working to stretch the virgin channel to better fit his girth. This produced a loud shout that was a mixture of indignation and encouragement such as the Balrog-slayer had never heard in either life-time and he smiled. Carefully he worked the tripled extremities as deep as he could, lingering over the sensitive spot with short sawing bursts of motion. The red rim of the anus flexed and tightened around his fingers and again Legolas cried out. Glorfindel's cock got impossible rigid and he whimpered.

"Please," Legolas gasped, "I am ready as I will ever be. I need something greater than your fingers to fuck me."

These were the words Glorfindel had been waiting to hear and his heart leaped. Carefully he pulled his fingers free, watching avidly as the hole closed back small and tight behind them. His mouth went dry; he was going to shove his cock in that snug ingress and ride the ripe round arse until he spilled. Instantly a silent prayer went out to Oromë and Tulkus for strength and stamina. With trembling hands he adjusted Legolas again, lifting him so that he could get both knees under him fully. Legolas turned a look of adoring trust, love, and incredible desire upon him and spread his legs wider, wantonly submissive.

"Take me," he ordered and was instantly obeyed.

With a lusty cry of victory Glorfindel mounted the exposed rear and drove inside, forcing his cock past the resistant ring of muscles. Dimly he heard Legolas issue a long wavering cry of pain and bliss and knew he'd found his mark on the initial thrust. The walls of the channel closed about his flesh and his balls slapped hard against the naked rump. Gripping the narrow hips enough to bruise, he rocked back slowly, watching the gradual emergence of the maroon shaft, and when he felt the tip tingling from the tightening of the cincture, he plunged back in with all his might. The slap of flesh on flesh was lost in their combined shouts of erotic fervour and after that there was no holding back.

For what he lacked in sophistication and experienced technique, Glorfindel more than compensated in pure male instinct, driving into his writhing partner with total abandon. Only the need to ram his engorged organ inside that hot vise of flesh and blood registered in his thoughts. Vaguely he heard the wild keening of the Wood Elf, felt his struggle, whether to get free of the carnal lance impaling him or force it deeper he could not guess and did not care. The sensation was overpowering; the most exquisite thing he had ever felt and mingled with it was the decadent triumph of having mastered another, subdued him so utterly that all his conquered lover wanted was to be fucked and fucked and fucked.

Glorfindel did so, losing himself in the motion and the exhilaration so that when the moment came and his seed surged forth in a forceful wave of ecstatic release he was taken unawares and simply gave in. What things he may have shouted, profane, divine, or ridiculous; of this he had no comprehension. What did register was Legolas screaming his name as a great convulsion racked his body and through the haze of his orgasm Glorfindel's heart soared even higher: he'd brought Legolas with him and they climaxed as one.

Afterwards, they lay sprawled in a disordered heap of limbs and mangled hair, exhausted and gasping to regain some sense of normalcy as the residual glory buzzed through their addled brains. Neither moved for quite some time, drifting in and out of coital bliss, and the Balrog-slayer, recovering first as he had not expelled his semen twice, thought Legolas had fallen into reverie. That made him feel boastful and so he caressed the shoulder against which he was draped and flexed his hips, still buried to the balls in the Wood Elf's arse.

"Eru, I cannot, not yet," moaned Legolas, words muffled by virtue of the fact that his face was squished against the mattress.

"No?" snickered Glorfindel and lapped at a pink ear tip. Then he worked his hand underneath the limp body and encountered the messy residue of Legolas' release. "I suppose you don't have anything left to give. Pity, for I was thinking how comfortable my cock is right now, all warm and safe and gooey, and that I would just stay right where I am until I grow hard anew. I could ravage you for hours, Legolas," he finished in husky tones and gave another little push against the lax frame.

"Ai, Glorfindel," trilled Legolas softly, for the idea had gone right to his groin and in spite of his fatigue he felt life stirring there. He wiggled his arse, hoping to inspire a like response from the much reduced organ trapped inside him. Glorfindel grunted and his cock quickened almost at once. The sensation of the penis filling and growing was unlike anything Legolas had imagined and he moaned urgently, bucking as he felt the Balrog-slayer positioning himself for another go.

He gave himself up to it and was totally owned, fucked thoroughly and soundly and with much greater attention to whether or not he was enjoying the act this time, not that he had any complaints about the initial joining, but the tenderness embedded in every move Glorfindel made settled deep in his heart. He was sore and ached in a way he could not compare to anything but cared not. Every thrust of the living sword pierced his soul and Legolas welcomed it, so moved he could neither speak nor cry. He felt his beloved reach another shattering peak and truly could not manage to make it there with him, but his sense of fulfilment was no less.

Sweaty and smelling of semen, Glorfindel pulled out this time and crawled to lie beside his mate, gathering the wilted warrior close and smoothing hair away from the fair face so to kiss Legolas. He found a trace of tears upon his cheeks but Legolas smiled, returned the kiss, and burrowed close against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered and pressed his lips against the broad breast, nuzzling a nipple, thinking that once he was recovered he was going to enjoy treating Glorfindel to the same luxuriantly punishing penetration.

"Not as much as I love you," countered Glorfindel, infinitely proud to have done the deed so thoroughly and so well, and twice in a row. "We're eternally bound now, soul to soul," he added. Then a troubling thought occurred to him. "To which one of you am I bound, Legolas?"

"What? Don't you know?" demanded Legolas, lifting an aggrieved and scowling countenance to his beloved.

"How can I know? You've been switching back and forth since you arrived in Imladris."

"I have not done any such thing," huffed Legolas, but there was bright mirth in his indigo eyes. He shifted away a little. "I don't think I want to have sex with you again until you prove you know who I am."

"Now Legolas, I know who you are," insisted Glorfindel, frantic to figure it out fast as he did not want any restrictions placed on when or how he might choose to indulge the pleasure of claiming Legolas.

"So? Tell me then. Am I Legolas of the Tree, the disinherited Swallow, or Legolas of Greenwood, the Swallow prince and Thranduil's heir?" All joking vanished from his eyes and his words and in great anticipation he awaited an answer.

Glorfindel's brow wrinkled, desparate to solve the riddle, calling to mind the things Legolas had said since they entered the room. Brothers divided, yet more than brothers; the part of Legolas Glorfindel had never acknowledged in Gondolin; this union would mend a broken soul and mind. His expression brightnened in intrigued surprise, fairly sure he knew the answer but not the way or the why of it all. "You are both," he announced. "Legolas of Greenwood and Legolas of the Swallow. I don't understand how it was done, but the healing you so desperately needed has been achieved by this bizarre splitting of spirit followed by the union of our bodies. Elbereth! The workings of the Valar are strange to me."

"Truly they are strange," agreed Legolas, "but this was my idea and they couldn't stop me. As a wise person once said, Mandos is not a prison."

"Yet, how could you live with but half a soul?" he asked.

"I was never half a soul, at least not here," Legolas tried to clarify the unusual circumstances. "I have always been more than just one soul, for part of me has always belonged to him. A very small portion, though, for nearly all his being was consumed in grief and agony. What was still viable was badly damaged and thus Manwë decided a new soul should be given to him and to me. So was I created: a blended soul. I have lived my own life and known my own world separate from any of that tragedy of the past, for he shielded me from that. In turn, I now give to him an entire life of joyful memories, a childhood blessed by love and happiness. In the end, the choice was mine to make, for I am my own person and I could have rejected my brother utterly."

"I still do not understand," complained Glorfindel, "but it does not matter. You are here and you are my Legolas, just lacking all the bitter hardness. I am pleased and grateful." He leaned in for a quick kiss and they parted smiling.

"It is an incredible gift," agreed Legolas, "and I have Nienna to thank. She backed my request and said I earned it many times over. So, I was given the childhood I missed, the love of good parents, the adoration of my grandmother, and now you as well." He broke into a joyous laugh and hugged Glorfindel tight. "I cannot wait to get home. How much more do I appreciate those who love me now."

"Home meaning Greenwood." Glorfindel reached out and worried Legolas' nipples, grinning as Legolas exclaimed and squirmed into a position that would enhance both the feeling and his view.

"Tawar nín Beria," he sighed. "Pinch harder and twist it Ohhhh yes!" Legolas gasped and was bowled over as Glorfindel pounced and devoured him.

The conversation devolved to groping and grunting and heavy breathing for a time but neither one could sprout an erection and so in a while they settled back into one another's arms, Glorfindel content that he'd marked his new mate. His thoughts returned to their discussion.

"We must go to Greenwood," he announced firmly. "I feel I have trespassed terribly on your Adar's goodwill. I must beg pardon and explain my heart would not be denied."

"That is well said," smiled Legolas, framing the handsome face between his hands. "He knows I am here and what I came here for; though he worries about the outcome, he will not be angry that we are soul-bound. He will welcome you. You have another family now and need not work for these twisted Noldorin lords anymore."

"Now, Legolas, they are not twisted," disagreed Glorfindel, "and I have sworn service to Elrond's House so there is no getting out of it."

"What kind of oath was it?"

"The solemn, unbreakable kind, beloved."

"So, not all is to be free of strife," growled the prince. "Fine, we'll work something out. Six months here and then six months in Greenwood, or something."

Glorfindel did not respond beyond gathering Legolas close again, pillowing his head on the lean belly and sighing in pure contentment, ready to drift into slumber. A slight weight fell atop his head and he smiled, loving the sense of protective love in that touch, and kissed the warm skin beneath his cheek. The lovely moment was rudely disrupted by a loud and rumbling complaint from that stomach.

"Ai!" laughed Glorfindel, sitting up and patting the neat little navel. "Legolas, that was not very polite."

"I cannot help it," fumed Legolas, cheeks stained crimson for a moment. "I've not eaten much of anything for what seems like months. Is it not near time for the evening meal? Surely we have been in here for hours."

"Not so very long, but we can go and find you something nourishing. You'll have need of your strength," he boasted, puffing up a bit and adjusting his genitals.

"True, for I have yet to take my pleasure in you," agreed Legolas. "That will require considerable fortification if it is to be done and done well."

"Oh, you've made up your mind to it, have you? What happened to all that 'as you will it, beloved'?"

"Do you not want my cock to pleasure you?" Legolas looked and sounded hurt.

"I didn't say no," reassured Glorfindel, gathering him up again against his heart. "Of course, I want us to share everything. In due time, when I will it," he added. Legolas of the Tree had never wanted that and he was uncertain what it meant to hear Legolas state this hunger.

"It means he was taught not to ask for what he wanted," Legolas answered his mental comment with a severe frown. "It will not be like that this time. I have needs and we will work out when and how to meet them together, yes?"

"Aye, that is both fair and right, for we are mates," agreed Glorfindel. He reached for the prince's lax penis and stroked it, cupping and gently squeezing his balls and grinned at the combination of growl and squeal this produced. He imagined their life was going to be a lot more interesting this time and looked forward to it. "Come, then, let's go find you something to marshal your flagging resources." He rose from the bed and helped his mate up. Arm in arm they approached the door, which still stood ajar, and halted as they grew near enough to hear what was going on in the other room.

Now, being so involved in their own ecstasy, they had not noticed the activity taking place in the intimidating den of torture and titilation. Not being so distracted any longer, the noises were plainly audible. A loud smack resounded through the air followed by a low grunt of pain and then Elrond's voice reached them:

"You have been a disobedient and unruly slave, Erestor. Say it!" Another slap punctuated the command, a sharp yelp followed it, and then the sinister seneschal spoke:

"Never! Cruel and harsh you are and a tyrant, but no Master of me!"

"Ungrateful wretch" shouted Elrond. "I will teach you who is Master of whom!"

There followed a lot of shuffling sounds as of a struggle, and much grunting and groaning as of two that strained in combat, so much so that Legolas and Glorfindel shared their alarm and hurried to the door. They arrived in time to see Elrond's long stiff penis disappear up his kinsman's arse, to which action both emitted exuberant shouts of salacious satisfaction. The Lord of Imladris set to it with impressive vigour and sufficient prowess to evoke a series of very undignified pleas for more from his noble henchman. The air reeked of sex and it was obvious this was not the first coupling nor the most violent, for there were smears of blood and semen here and there about the floor.

"Aira Aldaron, that is indeed twisted," whispered Legolas in awe.

The newly bonded pair stood and watched so long they found the need to hurry back to the bedstead, and Legolas' empty stomach was momentarily appeased by consuming the product of Glorfindel's third ejaculation.

TBC

NOTE: About done now. It would mean a lot to me if you let me know if you read and enjoyed the story :D


	8. Chapter 8

**Beautiful Dreamer**

by erobey un-beta'd _italics = thoughts_

**Part Eight: Epilogue**

"AI! Ooohhh!" Legolas groaned, curled nearly double over the bed, knees tucked tight as he could get them against his belly. He rocked to comfort himself through the pain and sighed as the spasm passed, shooting Glorfindel a rueful look and a slight shrug. "I cannot help it; it's been days and I've never been this starved."

"I didn't say anything," said Glorfindel. "Come, if it is that distressful we must go now."

"Back in there while they're doing what they're doing?" Legolas sat gingerly on the mattress to ease his aching rear while cradling his empty, aching, protesting stomach. Another pang rumbled loudly through him and he moaned anew, grateful when Glorfindel set a soothing hand upon his back and rubbed gently. "There has to be another way out of here."

"Perhaps, but I don't know where this passage leads and don't like the idea of traipsing about through Erestor's abode. No telling what we might stumble upon down here," cautioned Glorfindel. In the pause that followed a muffled shout of either agonised excruciation or unbelievable ecstasy, or both, arose from the room beyond where the Noldorin Lords were still enjoying their sinful game. "Come on," coaxed Glorfindel, "they won't even notice we're there. We'll be in and out before they even suspect it."

Legolas opened his lips to contradict this statement but only another acidic grumble poured forth and he hiccoughed a searing mouthful of the roiling juices that burned his throat. "Ugh!" he grunted and swallowed back the nasty fluid. It was enough to make him brave and he rose. "Let's go. Do you remember which pile of clothes is ours?"

"Well, no, but we were all at the platform so we'll just have to dig through them. A pair of leggings each and then we run for the exit," advised Glorfindel, eyeing his mate's svelte frame. "As long as I don't grab yours by mistake we'll be fine."

Like warriors going into battle, naked, sweaty warriors smelling strongly of musky seed, true, but with that same grim determination to see the mission through or die trying, they charged boldly for the doorway, reached it, passed through, and tried to survey the scene with dispassionate and specific regard for stray pairs of pants. With Erestor chained up to the rack and bent over backward so his head was upside down, Elrond's cock deep in his throat as the renowned lore-master slapped a scourge over his belly and rhythmically yanked a rope, which was attached to Erestor's genitals, in time with every pivot of his hips, it was an impossible assignment. They forgot about the leggings.

Entranced, they watched the Lord of Imladris lustily fucking his kinsman's mouth. Whenever he struck Erestor with the whip a sharp spasm shook the seneschal and he wailed around the organ, obscenely slick and dark, slipping in and out if his lips. His stomach was criss-crossed with bright red weals and the skin had broken in places, sending a spatter of blood over the white skin. Erestor's cock stood up tall and proud but the constant pulling of the rope was wearing a raw patch at the base and he flinched and squirmed with every tug. In due time, Elrond came, grunting with a loud snort as he jerked and fell forward over his cousin, hips working furiously. He rested, smiling and settling little licks over the blood smeared abdomen.

"Tawar nín Beria," whispered Legolas, admiration and alarm mingled in the oath.

At once Elrond looked up, a chilling scowl upon his face, grey eyes blazing with wrath. "What do you want?" he demanded, straightening and removing his lax penis from Erestor's mouth so to confront the voyeurs. He looked them over and smiled in wicked invitation. "Perhaps you have changed your mind and would like to join us after all?"

"What? No!" exclaimed Glorfindel, hastily getting between Elrond and his mate. "We just came for our clothes, nothing else. Legolas is hungry."

"We'd be happy to satisfy his appetites," coaxed Elrond, hands on hips so to make his nudity a challenge as he leaned to look around Glorfindel's imposing bulk at the excited young prince.

"Not until after you've satisfied mine," rasped Erestor. "Let them get on with their business, Elrond, and come finish yours."

"Fine. I was just thinking of you, melleth. I know how much you wanted to use your barbed nipple clamps." That gave Elrond an idea and he retrieved them from the platform, piercing his cousin through and then jerking the chains.

Erestor gave a reedy wail and flailed helplessly. "Oh, good, good," he gasped, grinning through the pain, "but not enough. You've lost your touch, melleth."

"You think so?" queried Elrond and left the rack to rummage about on one of the many tables upon which were scattered devices of pain and pleasure. He selected a stout, barbed rod of oak and presented it for Erestor's elucidation before shoving it up the seneschal's arse. The scream that resulted echoed in the room and ended in a sultry whimper, for Elrond in the next instant leaned over and began sucking his kinsman as he worked the tool roughly in and out. Somehow his free hand found the chain to the nipple clamps and gave them a sound wrench. All of this activity combined in various random sequences had Erestor writhing in paroxysms of anguished pleasure and his keening cries were rising in timbre and volume.

"Get the pants," whispered Glorfindel, "and let's get out of here. I don't want to see this." He nudged Legolas to divert his attention from the lurid display and in awkward silence they made their way to the discarded garments scattered haphazardly about the platform. He took up his leggings and then dropped them again, finding they reeked of Elrond's essence. "Ewwwww."

"Here," Legolas matched the hushed tone for he felt like an intruder. A breathless intruder stealing covert glances at the progress of Erestor's ravishing, yes, but he could not help that and grabbed another pair of pants. "These should do. Have you found mine?"

"Thank you, and no but take these; they are reasonably clean," answered Glorfindel, aware of his mate's intense interest and thickening cock. He reached for it and pulled it playfully. "I'll take care of you after you eat something."

Legolas' eyes widened and fell immediately to the Balrog-slayer's massive penis, finding it, too was filling up nicely in response to the high level of erotic stimulation going on around them. He took the leggings and smiled as he stepped into them, eager to do as Glorfindel pleased. Perhaps they would find some interesting condiments in the kitchen with which to spice up the taste a bit.

Glorfindel snickered over the misunderstanding, making rather a show of shoving his uncooperative penis into his borrowed pants. "That isn't what I meant, but I find my hunger awakened, too."

"I'm ready," giggled Legolas.

Reasonably decent, or half-naked depending on one's perspective, the two clasped hands and tiptoed toward the door. The rack had been wheeled out into the main body of the chamber and they had to pass rather close to it, its captive, and its Master. Erestor's eyes were sealed tight and the muscles of his shoulders and back strained in the bonds as he tried to lift into the pressure on his tender nipples. Elrond's head was busy suckling his cock with gusto but there was no means for the seneschal to spill with a rope binding the ducts so tight. Knowing that, Elrond subtly loosened the noose and squeezed the abused balls gently. He rammed the barbed dildo in and out with truly vicious vigour such that Erestor groaned and cried out with every thrust.

"Tawar ní Beria," Legolas muttered, peering at Erestor's comely face contorted in planes of blissful misery. "Doesn't that hurt, Lord Erestor?"

The dilated eyes opened and fixed on him, filled with languishing lust, and the seneschal's mouth twisted into a feral grin. "Oh yes," he growled in the frenzy of his rising need and because he knew the young prince was fascinated and he wanted him to see it happen, Erestor came at that moment. Long years of experience permitted Elrond's comprehension of the impending eruption and he quickly came away, leaving the exposed organ on open display as it spouted its pale and smoky torrent. Erestor expressed his satisfaction by calling aloud not his kinsman's name but that of the fair prince of Greenwood, pelvis rocking the spurting extremity into the empty air.

"Aira Aldaron!" Legolas exclaimed as Glorfindel forcibly hauled him from the room. They did not discuss the incident but there was no doubt at all that what they'd witnessed lent their next session of love-making an edge.

The journey across Hithaeglir was never made so quickly or so free of care and misfortune, for the way was cleared and the travellers guarded, the will of Manwë glad to ordain it so. Blue skies, fair weather, bountiful game, and good company turned the normally arduous trip into a holiday. Elrond and Erestor accompanied their friends and the four of them were sufficient in valour and strength to feel confident of victory should any enemies be encountered, and so only a small contingent of warriors followed. Even so, it was more than enough company to make the newly bound mates shy of indulging their hunger for carnal union. This, perhaps, accounted more for the speed of the party's progress than any benediction of the Valar.

The broad valley of Anduin was crossed without regard to its wild beauty and without stopping to pay calls upon the Beornings or the Brown Wizard in his abode of birds and blooms. Across the ford, the way veered and parallelled the ancient forest and then the caravan slowed, for Legolas stared in awe at the domain of Tawar, seeing Greenwood for the first time, and indeed never had he seen anything akin to it for in Gondolin there were orchards and groves but no forests, and therein he had been born while his death came too soon after its fall to see Neldoreth or Brethil and his bones lay in a grave on the empty plains of Dimbar, deep beneath the Sundering Sea.

Now they came through the forest gate and entered the realm of Thranduil and standing there was a sentry who hailed the King's heir with joy and sent ahead word of their advance. Legolas gazed in silence at the towering trees lining the path, its winding way wending on beyond sight amid the old and sentient hollies. Faint was the breeze but fresh was the air and filled with the scent of green life, rife with the sounds of leaves rustling and game running, water flowing and birds singing. None spoke, seeing the deep communion between the prince and his lands.

Then Legolas shared with Glorfindel a bright smile and a hearty laugh and standing upon his horse leaped into the arms of the nearest tree. He disappeared instantly but anon his voice came down to them in song and filled all the woods with the beauty of his hymn to the Spirit of the Great Wood. It was a time before he would come down and the others made camp, met by grinning sylvans who appeared from the air it seemed and brought meat and fruit to make a meal together. The next day they continued on.

Word spread quickly and long before reaching the bridge over the Enchanted River the sylvans gathered among the branches and along the road, joining the train as it moved ever closer to the hidden stronghold, so that when Legolas came into the courtyard of his home a great throng followed. Every throat gave forth in stirring song and every heart uplifted to see Legolas come home with his mate in tow, so obviously happy that none could be anything else, but as they entered the courtyard of the fortress all fell silent.

There stood Thranduil at the doors of his mountain castle, eyes bright as he searched the face of his son. Seeing no strife there he squeezed Ithiloth's hand and shared with her a swift kiss of exuberant relief. It might not have gone so well but it could not possibly have turned out better. Beside him, the pale white Queen beamed, heart hurting from trying to contain the strong feeling welling there until it was fit to burst with rejoicing.

Unwilling to wait for protocol or formalities, Legolas jumped from his mount and hastened to embrace them, so pleased to be enfolded in his father's arms and held with pride and gentle love, so ecstatic to hear his adopted mother's choked words welcoming him home. He could not stop smiling and introduced his mate with such evident adoration that none could doubt the match was meet and good. They all went in and settled into the comfortable quarters Galion assigned them, but Legolas took leave of his family and his friends and went out into the city.

He knew the way and could hardly keep from racing there and as he paced through the quiet byways the long Ages fell away around him until finally he was a child again running to share the news of his great adventures. He barrelled around a stand of oaks and came into a clearing wherein stood a small house, one of the few here built upon the ground, its walls of river stones and its roof thatched in grasses and hung with vines of honeysuckle. He slowed, taking in the bright flower garden with its bench carved from a felled oak, the sheltered entrance defined by the sweetly scented vines, and was pleased with the homey style of her abode.

In the doorway she waited, blue eyes gazing upon the tall archer striding through the trees, and her hands flew to her mouth as though to contain the mixture of fear and happiness that sought to get free of her, for how could she not sense the new shades of vermilion spiking through her child's aura, crimson bursts so familiar and so missed? He stopped and stared; here she was at last after so many long years of waiting and now he could not make himself move, overwhelmed in memories of their partings and the love of this elleth, a love that defied death to bring him forth anew that he might have the life she meant for him.

"Nana?" he called softly and lifted a hand toward her, took a step forward.

"Legolas!" she cried and bounded from the door, arms wide, laughing and crying all together.

He met her, caught her up and held her fast to his heart, wondering at how small and slight she was, how strong her arms clasped about his chest, how beloved the sound of that laughter, how cherished each tear that fell upon his shoulder. His fell upon her hair, the scent of it bringing him all the memories of their few years together in Gondolin along with the entirety of his childhood in Greenwood where she was his beloved Alatamillë, his adoring nanny who had cared for him alongside Ithiloth. Not until this moment was he fully healed and whole again, and Legolas stayed in the clearing for many hours, sharing all that had happened in Imladris, albeit a slightly edited version out of deference and respect.

Yet, Curoniel knew his heart better than even he suspected and it was she who suggested the just-forged bond could bear much and the inclusion of others ought not to be discounted, nor was it wise to repress or hide his needs and desires from his mate. How she divined his unspoken worries he could not guess and when asked she simply said she had raised him twice now. Then she revealed her gift for his new life: a design for the crest of the combined Houses through which Legolas had come to be as he was now, and seeing it his happiness was complete.

The wedding was a simple affair as was the custom among the Wood Elves, even royal ones, and Glorfindel knelt beside Legolas in a green glade amid a cathedral of majestic beeches, Thranduil and his Queen at their shoulders, his hand upon the Balrog-slayer's, hers upon her son's. Standing near Elrond and Erestor bore witness for Glorfindel as he had no kin remaining in Arda, and with them a fair-haired elleth who could not stop smiling while yet her hands dabbed at her glimmering blue eyes betimes to catch the steady drip of happy tears: Curoniel. There was no ceremony or officiating priest, just the two soul-mates side by side exchanging quiet words of constancy, love, and gratitude to the One and to Tawar and Glorfindel added in Manwë while Legolas named Nienna, his champion across the sea.

Legolas had a crown of yellow and white flowers in his hair; Glorfindel's tresses were bound at his brow with a modest silver circlet bearing the gilded emblem of his ancient House. They did not share rings but instead reverted to a tradition lost with the fall of Gondolin and presented each other with bracelets woven from the mingled stands of each one's hair, the rich shades of gold softly shining as they bound them securely about the knife-hand wrists, professing never to remove them, not even with the changing of the world. Then they kissed and, naked beneath loose and flowing vestments of white gauze, their desire to reconsecrate the spiritual union in conjugal bliss was evident to all.

Smiling in indulgent mirth, the parents kissed each son upon the brow while the Noldorin Lords refrained from any such familiarity and simply offered sincere congratulations and good wishes. Curoniel cupped her child's exuberant face and could not speak, pressing her forehead against his for a long moment before straightening and then kissing his cheek. For Glorfindel she had a more serious smile filled with gratitude and underlain with promises of death should he harm her son.

Then all the witnesses left them there in the green glade and Legolas stripped Glorfindel of his robes, covering his naked flesh with voracious kisses, especially the new mark inked upon his left shoulder blade: a swallow soaring beneath a rayed sun above a mighty oak. The same tattoo was on the corresponding shoulder of his body and he did not object when Glorfindel uncovered it and lovingly impressed it with lips and tongue as he mounted him, thrusting hard and deep, riding him to mutual fulfilment. Nor did Glorfindel want for like attention as Legolas took him after a time of rest, preferring to lay his mate upon his back so to watch him as he climbed to orgasm and plunged into ecstasy, driven by the prince's unerring aim and unbridled ardour.

The hours of sunlight are short under the eaves but the new couple devoted every precious second remaining in the day to expending this passion so strong it required two life-times of love to satisfy it. In the evening there was a feast and all of Greenwood turned out to welcome their beloved prince's new mate and there was great joy within the kingdom of the woodland elves. A full month passed by in festive goodwill before Erestor and Elrond returned to Imladris, leaving the happy couple to a year of wedded solitude to solidify their bond. After that time, the decision would be made for how to accommodate both the oath of fealty Glorfindel swore before Manwë and the similar one Legolas had spoke before his father's throne upon reaching his majority.

During this period, Legolas was not yet ready to advance his curiosity and renew his participation in the wicked games of the Noldorin Lords, and neither was Glorfindel so inclined. The Lord of Imladris and his worthy kinsman did not become discouraged nor express anything but gracious goodwill, never mentioning the aborted plan to introduce the prince to pleasure's darker side. They were content to wait.

The arrangement Legolas had suggested was not workable. Given the distance between the two realms and the great heights to be scaled along the way, six months really meant only about three when the long trek was accounted. Thus, the King of Greenwood and the Lord of Imladris decided that instead the couple would divide their years instead of mere months. Six years in the forest world and then the same number dwelling in Imladris was suitable for both rulers and the warriors involved.

Glorfindel may not have been as at home in the trees as the sylvan troops he would command, but none doubted that his valour would be beneficial as he shared in the duties of orc-slaying and spider-felling alongside their prince. Likewise, Legolas was not as familiar with the demands of lengthy campaigns patrolling the wide reaches of Eriador, but none misgave that his skill and courage would be anything but an asset to Imladris.

Now for the new mates the years passed easily in Greenwood, an idyllic life unfolding before them, a sense of peace and security never experienced even in the days when Gondolin lay hidden and no enemies could find Turgon's realm. Legolas enjoyed the stature denied him then, the respect of his peers and the adoration of his subjects, the unsurpassed love and devotion of Glorfindel. He fairly basked in his Adar's unfailing support and proud appreciation for so fine a son, glowed from the unending doting with which Ithiloth showered him, shone like Eärendil in the boundless expanse of Curoniel's maternal tenacity. So great was his gratitude for the life granted him as the son of Thranduil that he found no need to recall his lengthy debasement as the son of Duilin. The past faded into shadow, a grim, unpleasant dream from which he had awakened. The Swallow prince of Greenwood was content, comprehending the meaning of this term for the first time in two life-times.

The Balrog-slayer likewise revelled in a the joy of their union and could not but feel sincere and fathomless thanksgiving for the people who had made his happiness possible. It passed through his mind often whether some ancestor of Thranduil's had been among the refugees fleeing through the heights of Crissaegrim. He could not see it otherwise, for there had to be some means to balance the depth of his happiness and his sacrifice on that treacherous pass was all he could find to place in Vairë's scales. It was important to do so, for he could not bear to imagine that he would be tasked with some hardship to account for it. Such worries he withheld from Legolas, hoping not to spoil the serenity that resided in the archer's soul.

They made their home apart from the underground caverns of Thranduil's fortress, Legolas choosing a tree not too far from Curoniel's glade. In its mighty arms he built a grand talan to rival the most elegant construction found in Lothlorien, but at its base was a fine stairway winding round from the roots up to the first platform, since Glorfindel was not accustomed to scaling the bark and branches. The house was furnished well, being filled with their mutual love, and he did not miss the luxuries with which he had been raised both in Gondolin and in Aman. The pair was inseparable whether at home or out in the most dangerous regions of the forest. Many were the attacks they led upon the orcs and the spiders and Greenwood prospered as their bond grew stronger.

When four years had passed in this manner, the dreams returned to Legolas. This time, however, the images did not inspire fear and confusion for they were known to him as memories and held no force to frighten. He reported the occurrence to his mate, needlessly since Glorfindel could easily detect the stirrings of passion and knew what to do to satisfy them. Yet when he understood what was happening, he was neither angry nor saddened, though he had desired nothing more than Legolas for his own alone. He could not deny the truth, that he enjoyed mastering Legolas and subjecting him to moderate torment. The memory of Erestor's unique chamber began to haunt him.

The next time the dream overtook Legolas, he was roughly roused from it to find himself bound to the bed, helpless and immobile while Glorfindel's long cock rhythmically rammed him. He came with such force he passed out. The Lord of the Golden Flower was eager to advance the games, but found Legolas shy of going too far for fear of having anyone in Greenwood discover their aberrant tastes.

So it began.

Now the full six years had gone by, these being spent in Greenwood as originally agreed by all parties, and the couple were once more in Imladris, settling in to the Balrog-slayer's house, a modest structure of wood and stone not far from Elrond's estate.

Legolas loved it, finding it comfortable and not overly ostentatious, a complaint he harboured about his Adar's taste in furnishings, while not as severe as the talans to which he was accustomed in the heights of Greenwood. Glorfindel, however, could not be satisfied it was right, for he had simply taken over an empty dwelling forsaken by a family emigrating to Aman. They stood in the bedchamber surveying the mess of half opened packs and weapons strewn about, the wardrobe door ajar and overflowing with garments, the dresser clumped with smaller packages and baggage. Through the open windows filtered the sound of birds singing and the gentle sighing of leaves from an overhanging bough.

"I shall have a larger bed made," Glorfindel said, scowling at the simple wrought iron frame and its plain white counterpane. "I should have thought of that long ago and commissioned it so to have it ready now."

"What is wrong with this one?" asked Legolas, peering over his shoulder. He went and reclined atop it, stretching with a restrained groan and then folding his arms behind his head with a sigh of delight, legs splayed wide. "It is very comfortable," he remarked, eyes drifting half-shut so that he was peeking at Glorfindel through his lashes. "It seems quite sturdy and well-made, too, but perhaps it would be wise to try it out before deciding." One hand slid down to his crotch and began opening the breeches. It was pulled out of the way as Glorfindel bounded to the bed so to take over the task.

"An excellent idea, beloved," he grinned, pausing to pry off Legolas' boots and cast them over his shoulder. The pants were undone and he quickly uncovered the emergent erection, fisting it as soon as the leggings were discarded, pumping it vigorously as he worked one-handed to free his own. Not bothering to remove his clothes, he spat into his palm and smeared the spittle over the long red cock poking out of the gaping garment, grunting in appreciation as Legolas rocked back and locked his legs around the Balrog-slayer's neck. In no time Glorfindel was sheathed to his balls and fucking the young prince royally.

Now it has been revealed that the two had become experts regarding the ways and means of pleasuring one another. Glorfindel knew just how deep and how hard to penetrate to maximise Legolas' delight, while Legolas understood exactly how much thrashing and begging to do to excite his lover into frenzied action. They reached a satisfying result after a lengthy period of coitus during which they changed positions twice, Glorfindel was stripped of his tunic and shirt, and Legolas managed to get semen in his hair. They rested in the glorious mess they'd made.

"Perhaps this bed will do," commented Glorfindel, smiling at the relaxed and dreamy expression in Legolas' eyes.

"Aye, agreed. I don't want to change a thing about this room," sighed Legolas. "We're going to be very happy in this little house."

"I have to admit I am glad to be back on the ground. The talans of the sylvan folk are sturdy but very high above the forest floor. It was difficult to adjust."

"You never showed it. Yet perhaps that explains the fierce quality of your love-making whenever we were amid the branches."

"Exactly. If I was going to end up careening over the side and plunging to my death, I wanted the last moments preceding my end to be pure ecstasy."

They laughed together and shared a long kiss, getting ready for more fun, but a discreet knock upon the door disrupted their plans. With an aggrieved sigh Glorfindel elected to go, he being slightly more decently dressed than Legolas; besides, he did not want his mate to put those leggings back on. He arrived at the portal and opened it to find the stoop empty save for a bottle of very ancient wine, its antiquity attested by the thick coating of dust upon it. There was no card attached but the implications were obvious and Glorfindel thought he could just detect the faintest aroma from the cork, a sign the seal had been breached. The implications of that were obvious, too, and he had no doubt the wine was laced with some potent drug.

Glorfindel re-entered the bedroom to find Legolas completely naked and fully aroused, standing by the desk searching through the contents of a small satchel which contained their limited collection of sex toys. He glanced back, a question on his fine features, and the Balrog-slayer raised the bottle. "Erestor's notion of a welcoming gift." The expression on his mate's face was easy to interpret. "In due time, beloved." He put the wine aside and approached to see what Legolas would choose.

"They have made the first sortie," griped Legolas, shivering, but his cock leaped and his heart began pounding. "I had hoped to seize the advantage and lure them here, starting things on our grounds. We could tie Erestor to the bed with these." He held out a handful of red silk scarves.

"We fired the first volley, remember, by proposing the arrangements ourselves," reminded Glorfindel.

That had been an interesting discussion, the four of them seated in comfort in the private office of Lord Elrond, Lord Erestor posed leaning against the broad expanse of padded wood, for once outside his own domain to confer with his kinsman, all sipping minimally from goblets of cool, golden wine, the picture of elven nobility and courteous manners. As befitted the elder and dominant mate, Glorfindel had defined the terms under which the Noldorin Lords might be included in the couple's amorous adventures: he would designate the method of restraints to be used, the order of penetration, when and who could fuck Legolas orally, how many times they would be permitted to spill inside him before he was permitted to come, what manner of torture was acceptable, and various other conditions. All points were conceded without a whisper of argument, Erestor almost salivating he was so eager, both of them rigid as trees and ready to go.

That had been this morning just after dawn.

"You want to tie Erestor up?" Glorfindel peered at his lovely spouse in mild surprise. He snorted a bemused scoff, taking the soft fabric away and eyeing the naked body hungrily. "I thought you wanted to be the victim." Fast as a striking serpent he grabbed Legolas' arms and spun him round, wrenching his wrists behind him and binding them together with the red scarves. "And in any case, I am the Master and it shall be as I decree. Now, go and kneel on the floor over there while I see what else we have that might be interesting to try."

Legolas obeyed at once and squatted with his buttocks resting on his heels, watching in avid anticipation, wondering what Glorfindel would do to him. The contented chuckle that arose from the Balrog-slayer was darkly shaded and decidedly to the evil portion of his vocal spectrum. Soon his mate approached, hands coyly hidden behind him. "What have you brought me?" demanded Legolas. His bold demeanour earned him a sharp slap on the cheek and he gasped.

"Is this how you address me? I am disappointed," Glorfindel chastised, eyes burning with amorous fury.

"Forgive me, beloved," pleaded Legolas. "I should not have been so forward. Whatever you have brought will please me, I am certain. Do as you will."

"Better, but such insubordination will be dealt with severely, Legolas," warned Glorfindel. Then he brought forth what he was hiding: a large wooden phallus similar to the one with which Erestor had been impaled that fateful day except there were no barbs on it. Still, what he planned to do was difficult for Legolas. "Rise up from you heels."

Legolas whined in needy dread but obeyed, chest heaving for he knew what was coming. No sooner was he straightened out than he parted his legs and bent forward a bit. Glorfindel came round behind him and inserted the long rod up his arse with a brisk thrust that prodded his core soundly. He yelled aloud and had to struggle to remain upright but he managed with Glorfindel's steady hand upon his shoulder. A few huffing gasps later, Legolas was able to lift his head and found his mate watching intently to be sure all was well. He give a minute nod in answer.

"Take hold of it," commanded Glorfindel sternly, still holding to Legolas to make it easier for him.

What he asked was difficult indeed for with his hands bound the archer had to strain backward while remaining balanced, bending his body into an impossible curve that sent all his golden hair cascading behind him and consequently gave him a rather unusual view of Glorfindel's lower body, which he was displeased to find still covered. Still, the manoeuvre was exhausting and required concentration; they'd only done this once before with limited success, but at last Legolas was able to grasp the handle sticking out of his rear sufficiently to make use of it. He eased the rod back a bit and then pushed it in, shuddering hard and almost toppling over. A tremulous wail passed his lips; it was impossibly exquisite.

"Nay!" barked Glorfindel. "Not until I will it so." The constrained hands stopped at once and Legolas did not protest beyond a frustrated whimper. "Good, perfect," praised the Balrog-slayer and ran a loving hand over the exposed chest, pinching a nipple as he did.

That raised a more pleasant sound from his beloved and he smiled, tempted to continue the tweaking and twisting but decided to withhold that for a time also. He moved around to the rigid cock pointing at the ceiling and gave it a playful flick. For that he was rewarded with a lusty grunt and a shifting and shuffling of knees as Legolas tried to refrain from working the rod. He was successful but the cost was high and sweat broke over his skin giving it a pearly hue. His lungs strained, having trouble not only because of the excitement but because the position was awkward and difficult to hold.

"Please," he whispered, panting hard, daring the entreaty even though it might earn him another punishing blow in a much more sensitive location.

"Soon," soothed the Balrog-slayer, moved by the soft entreaty. He hastened to complete the arrangements, snapping a light set of toothed clamps to the small erect buds. These were on a silken cord and he carefully reached around to tie it to Legolas' bound wrists, making sure the tension was taut enough to give a definite twinge every time the archer shifted his hands even a small amount. "There, you are ready," he announced and stood back to view his handiwork.

The sight was unbearably, grotesquely erotic and he could not wait to begin, dropping to his knees and licking the exposed belly button, hands carefully gripping Legolas' hips to help him maintain the pose. His lips fell lower and he lapped at the hot head of the jutting cock, grinning when this raised a loud and desperate cry from his mate.

"Please!" Legolas begged.

"What is it you want?"

"Let me use the rod while you suck me."

"You've forgotten your lesson so quickly, Legolas. I am displeased." Reluctantly Glorfindel rose and moved across the room, back squarely to the enticing vision on the floor, arms crossed over his chest.

"Ai! Forgive me, beloved," wailed Legolas. "Please, I will not forget again. Come back, oh please come back. Whatever you want to do, that is what I want. Do as you will with me; do as you will."

Such fervent supplications could not be ignored and Glorfindel resumed his place at once, for he adored that pleading tone and the absolute surrender of will it denoted. Legolas was his to do with as he pleased. "I am here, beloved," he cooed, again licking the salty skin on the smooth belly. "It is fine; I forgive you. Your wish is granted; begin." With that order he lowered his head and took the slender shaft in his mouth, sucking and swabbing it with his tongue as he hummed and growled in open delight. Again his hands settled on the narrow hips and he felt Legolas using the rod. Even had he not, the urgent cries that soon filled the room were sufficient evidence of his activity.

Legolas knew he could not last under these condition. Every motion up or down pulled the tight cord and subjected his tender nipples to jarring jolts of delicious agony while the muscles of his shoulders burned with the effort to move the phallus and fuck himself. Through it all, Glorfindel's insistent tongue and capable lips devoured his root. The combination was driving him madly to the heights and he came with a long drawn shout of his mate's name. Almost immediately he collapsed and would have hit the floor but for the Balrog-slayer's firm hold.

"Ai, Glorfindel, that was better than last time," he managed to gasp out, utterly exhausted, and was perfectly content to be carried to the bed and laid upon it. He sighed as the bonds were removed, the clamps taken from his throbbing chest, the sudden flair of sharp pain laved away by a warm tongue and gentle kisses softly soothing his nipples. "So good," he whispered. What Glorfindel would desire in return he could not at the moment guess. "Matters not; I would do anything," he mumbled.

"What's that?" asked Glorfindel, gazing in adoration at the beautiful prince as he stood and finally removed his pants. The clear blue eyes turned to him and Legolas offered a delighted grin, holding out his arms.

"At last," he laughed. "I thought you were never going to take those off. Come to me, Beloved."

Glorfindel complied and snuggled up to the spent and weary ellon, very proud that Legolas had achieved the difficult position and remained in character reasonably well throughout the exercise. He hugged him tight and kissed him, wrapping himself all around the lethargic archer, a living shield to protect him from harm and hurt.

"What is it?" asked Legolas, feeling the turmoil in his lover's touches. He licked the throat against which his face was pressed and giggled when Glorfindel swallowed and his larynx bopped him on the nose.

"Nothing," he lied but then thought better of it and opened up. "They're such such predators. Insatiable predators. Erestor and Elrond have been at it for Ages; we're neophytes in comparison. I don't want this to turn into something frightening or humiliating." He shifted so to look into his mate's eyes, managing to rub his rigid cock against a muscular thigh as he did so.

"They will not go beyond our limits, melleth," assured Legolas, encouraging that thick shaft by wriggling against it with a deep groan. "Ai, you are so hard, Glorfindel. Tell me what you want," he whispered, kissing his way across the broad chest to get at the full nipples which he suckled and lapped, sliding back and forth over the engorged organ. It twitched beneath him and Glorfindel grunted.

"Oh, feels wonderful, beloved. Ah, what I want is that lovely mouth to surround me and suck me dry. Are you too tired?"

"Don't be silly," scoffed Legolas, and indeed the request invigorated him. He fell upon Glorfindel with great relish and soon had him squealing and wriggling and pleading for mercy, hands knotted in his hair, tugging to enhance the pace of every lift and fall. He came hard and fast, bellowing out an incomprehensible noise that was wildly expressive of his satisfaction, and then went limp, moaning softly as he struggled for breath, carding his fingers through the golden mane as Legolas did indeed syphon off every smidgen of seed from the velvety shaft, relinquishing it with a smack of his lips as his tongue swiped over them in appreciation. "Delicious," he crooned sweetly and sidled up to share the tart secretion he had come to savour.

"Ai Valar, what a treasure you are," laughed Glorfindel, again wrapping all around his mate in a possessive shield. "I love you so much, Legolas."

"Not as much as I love you," the archer countered, their traditional contest to see who could be the one to claim the greater love. Clasped heart to heart, they drifted into light reverie.

Outside the window, Erestor emerged from the shadows beneath the open panes whence he'd dived as soon as his gift was deposited on the doorstep, well pleased with what he'd witnessed, hastening to give his report to Elrond. The Lord of Imladris and his worthy seneschal laid out their strategy, seeing no further obstacles to fulfilling Legolas' secret desire.

It was cold and he shivered, a shudder rattling through his bones that physically hurt and he moaned, mouth cottony and tasting of rancid milk. He licked his lips with a thick, unwieldy tongue and moaned again, longing for a cup of wine to chase away the sour residue. All was dark and cold, just like the deepest wells of blackness beneath his father's fortress; a spark of fear shot through his heart and set it racing. He'd fallen into one of those pits once and at the bottom lay foul water and the bones of orcs. Just when he was about to scream, a soft palm soothed firmly over his body and he realised he was naked.

The touch felt good, warm and comforting, and he relaxed. He tried to stay within the heat of the hand and sighed as it caressed his sides, his abdomen, his back, his buttocks. Then it pried between his legs and took hold of his penis, lax and limp, and played with it, jerking, pulling, wiggling, and the flaccid flesh began to respond.

It was grand and he wanted to see who was responsible for bringing him back to life, for so it felt as the chilling cold melted under the ministrations of those gifted hands. With effort he raised his lids and while his eyes did open, the light that met them was dim and hazy, tinged red. He could make out shapes but no details. Someone there beside him; a knee brushed his shoulder. He tried identifying by scent and his addled brain could only perceive the person was male. An aroused male, the musky smell mixing with the odour of his rising excitement. He smiled and shivered, closing his eyes behind the red silk scarf. _Glorfindel_ It had to be; they'd been playing with the scarves earlier.

The heat in that sensual touch poured into his swelling shaft, feeding his arousal so that his cock throbbed with every fondling tweak and twinge, growing so hard so quickly he began to ache, but he welcomed the discomfort. Such a glorious orgasm it would be. He moaned, thinking it would be better to roll to his back and spread his knees wide, offering easier access and unlimited leave to handle him freely. Sluggish and unresponsive though his frigid muscles were, he at last managed to make his hips obey him and immediately found he could not do it. An abrupt, sharp snatch at his sensitive balls made him cry out in alarm and he dropped back on his side, trembling. A dark, smothered gasp of laughter followed this effort and another flash of panic raced through his veins. It was not Glorfindel's laugh, nor was it a single voice.

His heart rate doubled; it was the dream again, except this did not feel at all dream-like and the sudden application of a blunt thumb over the pinnacle of his glans confirmed it. The feeling was delicious and he moaned in decadent appreciation in spite of his fear. It had to be the Noldorin Lords playing out his fantasy, preparing to fuck him, but where was Glorfindel? Desperately he tried to squelch the tingling surges racing though his shaft and think. Had he dined with Elrond? The fist working him squeezed and he pumped into it, jerking his balls roughly so that he shook under the combination of pain and pleasure. The throaty laughter sounded again.

"Ai, d daro," he managed brokenly, tried again to learn what had grabbed his sac so severely. Hazily his mind attempted to interpret the sensation: it was not the warmth of those teasing fingers, nor was it cold and icy as iron would be. Carefully he made to inspect his scrotum and was immediately rebuffed, his wrist clasped in a tight grip and jerked suddenly behind him. The unmistakable sound of metal cuffs snapping shut joined the cool, slick touch of steel upon his skin. Let loose, his arm hung suspended, bent behind him and pulled up; trying to shift it caused the subtle jangle of chains to ring out.

The motion also taught him where additional restraints held him fast for his nipples exploded with such pain that water raced to his eyes and he heard himself shout in angry protest. He fought back and again fetters in such vulnerable a regions made it impossible to exert his will. His shoulder blade flared under the strain. He gasped, then groaned as the pressure on his pectorals increased along with the drag on his genitals and he had to give in, slumping back to his side, miserable and mortified.

All the while, the hands petted and soothed him, rubbed and stroked his ardent shaft, swept between his parted thighs and squeezed the hairless sac, ran up his sides and tweaked the swollen buds. So many hands. He writhed under the attention, hearing his lusty groans, feeling the heat rise in him and the need to encourage what they were doing. The pain of struggling and the pleasure of their handling combined and he gave forth a long wail of excitement. There was another sex-charged chuckle and then the flat of a palm slapped his rear, the noise loud, and he exclaimed as much from shock as from pain.

"Who are you?" he demanded, though it could only be Erestor and Elrond. The rising terror in his own voice surprised him. No answer came by word and instead the groping hands changed locations, smoothing lovingly over his buttocks, prodding him a bit as if to get him to shift or move. Yet he could not do so without the jarring pain. "Please," he begged, "I am already bound as soul-mate to the one I love. Do not "

His command ended in an ear-piercing yelp as the hands burrowed inside the cleft of his arse and parted him, holding tight as a turgid column of flesh and blood jabbed against his anus and forced through. It did not pause but drove deep, the friction searing and sharp, and slammed hard against his prostate. A scintillating burst of fiery stars dazzled him and the huge penis spread him wide. Impaled upon it, Legolas trembled, knowing he was powerless to stop what was happening.

The roar of satisfaction that accompanied this invasive assault drowned him out and then the massive intrusion was moving, drawing back, retreating fast only to plunge in with renewed force. Dry and unprepared, Legolas strained against the onslaught, twisting and squirming as he was fucked; that the clamps and chains yanked and pulled relentlessly.

Caught between desire and dread, he succumbed and heard himself pleading with his assailant for more. The hands were gone from his body and he missed the touches, longing to be masturbated and fondled while he was being so ruthlessly claimed. Vaguely he realised he would not be able to experience any release in this state and another bubble of panic rose in his chest. Where was Glorfindel? The one hand still free with which to stabilise himself was pulled from under him and his chest shot forward as the ellon ramming in and out of his arse continued unabated, grunting his pleasure and holding Legolas' tight at the hips. The nipple clamps bit deep and he wailed; the cock stroking him hit his sweet spot; the arm was twisted and secured behind him.

Legolas hung suspended between the chains on his wrists and the ones anchored to his chest, snuggly attached to the floor. The pressure on his nipples briefly abated as he went limp in the bonds, moaning in agony as his shoulders blazed. He was sure they would be dislocated from the jarring force of the cock penetrating his bowels. Then a terrible creaking noise as of a winch turning made the chains sing and Legolas screamed; the cuffs at his wrists were being elevated. The tension on his nipples compounded and pain flared hotly, spearing through him in time with the relentless advance and retreat of the rigid organ. It was the most exquisite torment he had ever known.

"Ai please!" he shrieked and his depserate frenzy inspired his captor to new vigour. The pounding his arse was taking increased in power and depth and he rolled his hips to help make the passage easier.

"Valar!" the sudden oath was choked with pent excitement and building prurience and the ellon inhaled a great breath. On the next thrust he erupted, pumping out a healthy spurt of seed and shouting his delight. His motion slowed but he continued to rock against the tender core of his captive lover, relishing the involuntary ripples that ran through every nerve and fibre with each rolling stroke. He reached underneath and clasped the rigid shaft spearing nothing but air and held it as he continued his lazy copulation, breathing in copious gusts and grunts. "Oh, so sweet a ride as this must be made to last," he murmured and groaned as the body beneath him bucked against his balls.

"Aye, stay there and keep him on tenterhooks while I take this end," the second voice suggested.

A hand cupped Legolas chin, holding it steady as the pivoting penis inside him recovered and stiffened to its full potential. "Ai, please, I cannot bear it," he implored just as the rejuvenated erection struck his prostrate anew. He shuddered out a low howl. "Oh, yes, more, again," he exhaled. A soft laugh sounded near his ear and then a tongue darted out and tasted it; he could hear the ellon's breath come and go in short, sharp bursts.

"No biting now," he was warned, "or the rope round your root will be tightened up a few notches. We do not want you to do any permanent damage there."

This preceded the smoky scent of a leaking erection and seconds later the slick head brushed his nose and lips, a growling groan accompanying the motion. At the next touch, he opened for it and the thick cock pushed past his teeth, settling atop his tongue. He closed his lips tight around it and sucked, finding the flavour not as strong as the odour of sweat clinging to damp curls that tickled his nostrils as the organ advanced. Before he could gag it retreated and pulled out with a sudden pop and he startled. The combined agony through his shoulders, chest, and groin wrung a hoarse and ragged howl from his throat.

"Ah! Why did you do that?" grumbled the ellon still attacking his rear, his pace interrupted.

"To hear the sound and see it wet with his spit," whispered the one up front. "and it is beautiful. Here, pen neth, take it."

He presented his penis again and Legolas opened wide. In it went and slid deep just as the cock up his arse drilled down to his prostate. He moaned around the shaft between his lips and the ellon let lose a garbled expletive as his hips began gyrating with quick blasts of motion. They fell into synchrony and worked to achieve their separate climaxes together, but the hand had left Legolas' genitals and he was bereft, caught between grinding pain and unbridled excitement as his arms, nipples, and balls strained against the force. His need had by this time climbed beyond his ability to think and he only wanted the ecstasy of release. He was denied.

One after the other the two males achieved explosive orgasms and bellowed out their pleasure. This time, the ellon at the back pulled free and held Legolas up at the hips, dragging the rope around his testicles taut. A frantic grunt left the archer's lungs for while the relief to his arms and shoulders was appreciated, the tension was both painful and maddeningly erotic. Before he could make any more pleas for aid, the cuffs at his wrists were removed and his arms dropped. His cry as the blood flowed back into the abused joints was piercing and shrill. Blackness edged across his brain and oblivion claimed him.

There was no means to determine how long he'd been unconscious and no thought given to attempt figuring it out. Legolas' eyes blinked as a bright spot of light beamed over his pupils. Someone held a lamp before his face. He scrunched his lids shut tight and grunted, turning over to hide his face against the bed. He was not, however, lying on a bed. He was strapped to the rack and his blindfold was gone. As soon as he realised he could not move, his eyes flew open and he found his sight focused on a huge cock, rigid and ready, the perception of it skewed and confusing until he realised he was seeing it upside down.

The memory of Erestor's ravishing by the Lord of Imladris flashed through his mind and he panicked; he did not want to be beaten with the scourge. Legolas began thrashing and shouting for Glorfindel. At once a gentle hand descended upon his chest and covered his pounding heart.

"Be at peace; I am here, beloved," whispered Glorfindel. He pressed kisses all over the exposed torso and lovingly suckled the sore nipples. He was rewarded with a lurid moan and a shimmying shiver as hips tried to buck and Legolas' cock saluted. "Do you want to stop?"

"I "Legolas gasped and heaved to catch his breath and slow his racing pulse, raising his head awkwardly to see Glorfindel's eyes. Hands came behind his head to support him; hands belonging to the ellon with the huge erection just waiting to plunge down his throat. He shivered, realising this was Elrond. "Do not let him whip me," he pleaded.

"Take him off the rack," Erestor's imperious command rang out edged in dismay. "I told you it was too soon for that, Elrond." His face came into view as he bent low to peer at Legolas with kindly concern. "We do not want you to be traumatised, pen neth. There are other positions we can try today."

"Nay, it is well," said Legolas, offering a shaky smile. Glorfindel would not let things go too far and Erestor was very protective. He felt his nipples rise higher; it was Erestor's cock he'd swallowed so skillfully so short a time ago and pride increased his excitement. His back arched invitingly, as much as the straps permitted, and Erestor's eyes dilated, falling at once to his chest where his mouth quickly followed. "Ai! Oh yes," he groaned. Glorfindel took the other side and fingers began massaging his ears. They were going to grant his release this time. He pried the Balrog-slayer's mouth off and smiled. "I just needed to know you are here."

"Of course I am here," he assured his mate tenderly, desiring nothing so much as to take him away and have him alone, but Legolas continued to squirm in delight as Erestor feasted on him. "It is my fault; we intended you to float through this so overstimulated by the drugged wine that you would not be sure if it was really happening. I did not give you enough, it seems."

"No, I do not want to sleep through it. Defeats the purpose," Legolas managed with another smile, more devilish and daring this time.

"Legolas, I want you to enjoy what we do to you," rumbled the deep voice of the Lord of Imladris behind him. Legolas craned his neck to see him and met the topsy-turvy face of the noble lore-master. "Are you sure this is not too much?"

"No scourge," repeated Legolas. Erestor's lips popped off and he shuddered. He was tempted to issue more orders, seeing as they were all so compliant, but he did not want to spoil things. He had yet to come and his shaft was in urgent need of stimulation. "Put the blindfold back on," he decided he did not want to know who was doing what, not yet anyway. He sighed as Glorfindel obeyed him, smiled as a hand reached for his penis and squeezed him hard just as fingers reached out and pinched his wet nipples roughly. He moaned and twitched, bending into the contact and slowly let his head drop back.

Almost at once the engorged shaft was at his lips and they parted to receive it. An ecstatic shout followed as it slid down deep and he swallowed against the intrusion, breathing hard. He could not tell who came between his open legs until the hefty organ bored inside him, the way eased by the sticky residue left from the first cock; it was Glorfindel and his heart sang out in joy. They set a sedate pace, fucking him anally and orally with slow and steady thrusts, sighing and uttering mild blasphemies, caressing his body wherever their hands could reach to touch him. Then Erestor's lips surrounded his sensitive glans, his tongue bathing the hot skin repeatedly as he sucked, all the while fiddling with his balls and stroking the base of his shaft.

The seneschal was removing the cincture preventing the archer's release, all three in agreement that this was far enough to go for the first lesson, and the trio worked on him until he came, his delirious shout muffled by virtue of the cock down his throat. Glorfindel reached orgasm with him and Elrond emptied his testes with a subdued cry that confirmed he had enjoyed the sensation prior to this, as did the reduced flow that coated Legolas' tongue. As Lord of the Land, Legolas supposed, he was entitled to the lion's share and had fucked him first. Erestor spilled with Elrond's hand wrapped tight about his cock, swallowing Legolas' seed with voracious gulps. The sensations ran through them like wildfire, leaping from body to body in a circle of unparallelled delight.

When Glorfindel was recovered enough to stand, he unstrapped his mate and carried Legolas away to the room where first they'd sealed their eternal bond, laying him on the bed and clambering up beside him. They shared exhausted smiles and then kissed, twining round each other for a much needed rest. What they would try next was not yet decided but the possibilities were virtually unlimited. That made them both shiver in anticipation. Legolas decided he would not need the wine this time.

"Are you happy?" asked Glorfindel, though the answer was obvious.

"More than I ever dreamed possible," sighed Legolas, hugging the broad chest and licking the salty skin of Glorfindel's belly. "Are you?"

"Aye. We've done it haven't we?" he continued. "Took all that was most pleasing from both lives and combined them here and now."

"So we did, yet I doubt the doing was much of ours," chuckled Legolas. "Námo probably got very tired of listening to your complaints."

"Nay, it was not my complaints but your dreams that won the Powers over," insisted Glorfindel. "I think you generated so much heat over in Aman that there will be new additions to the Valarindi in due time."

"Do you think so?" Legolas lifted his head to gaze at his beloved, amused and proud at the same time. Glorfindel's light laugh made him smile and he leaned into the hand reaching to cup his cheek. "Ah, Glorfindel, truly our love is greater than the gods."

"That I cannot refute." He kissed Legolas, drawing him back down to lie atop his chest. Soon the pair were drifting into reverie, but before they reached it a plaintive voice wafted faintly through door.

"Please, let me suck your balls." Elrond's plea rang out in seldom-heard tones of deferential ardour. "I love to suck your balls."

What Erestor had to say in response was unintelligible but fraught with frantic exhilaration. The twisted Noldorin Lords were at it again.

Finished.

NOTE: Well, I hope everyone is satisfied with the ending. Glorfindel and Legolas are healed, the four-way happened almost as in the dream, and as promised a very happy ending :D This story is dedicated to Naledi_Seren who gave me inspiring feedback on the LJ after the very first chapter. She has long been a kind supporter of whatever I write. So I am pleased to say Beautiful Dreamer would not be as much fun as it is without her input. Everyone who liked it even a little bit has her to thank. Finally, my undying gratitude for everyone who has read the tale and extra huge hugs for those who took the time to send me feedback and reviews. You are all wonderful folks and I would be lost without you.


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